Lord, heal my body
I said without knowing
all the ways You would heal my life.
Starting from my heart,
the inbred deformity I carried since birth.
Every day You kissed it all better, and it hurt.
Your kisses hurt me, more than I would have ever expected.
They were also the only medicine
that ever worked for me.
For all my aches.
My aching body still fails me,
but God you sustain me.
Knowing maybe Your picture of health is different.
It looks like — I don’t know what.
Maybe the person I am becoming
when I have peace inside.
No matter what.
Because death too is a fact of life
and You hold eternity in Your hands.
So, what am I so worried about?
Maybe pain is the best teacher for people.
Like me who needs some sobering up to face
the reality of life.
How it’s precious.
So precious.
Maybe the reminder of knowing
we are all dying is what we need
to fully live
our lives today, as is.
To accept it all, because it’s all we’ve got.
So, what’s the point of fighting against it?
Against ourselves, our brothers,
sisters, and loved ones.
The ones our heart holds the closest.
What’s the point, in never-talking to them?
In being bitter and angry.
Imprisoned by hurt.
In thinking you are better than everyone else.
What’s the point?
You know we all have the same ending, don’t you?
So, make the in-between a bit more
lively…
For lack of a better word.
What’s the point, in anything if there is not
love.
But there is and you can be
a part of it.
POET: Fiorella Matos Guerra, attends Gateway Church (Melbourne).