(God’s Sonnet by Timothy J. Verret; it’s how I cope to hope in His Body so Brilliantly Bought)
You need somebody, anybody near.
Your body has candle-waxed from slowburn.
You’re what’s left of your body disappear,
and that’s a must, dear dust; your unconcern.
These days, I’m nobody, no one; a haunt.
My body is imaginings of past
lashes, straps, slashes, blows: The Tell-Tale Taunt.
Now? “Is there a doctor in the house?” Fast!
“Not the well who need a doctor; the sick.”
Mark Two:17 – Jesus IS Healing.
The Stethoscope Surgeon slices us up quick
to keep our body from the slab’s dealing.
Nobody goes under when Jesus saves
our body from somebody making waves.
