praying for platelets—
roughly the size of the lady’s
lost coin, tossed among
other things lost in Luke fifteen;
she had ten and required the last
as a regular tithe, giving up
lamp oil to finally find the
errant lamb, the blood of which
tenders to every saved one.
We need her fervor and faith,
spreading the word that the
ledger is more than restored;
we’ll join in rejoicing,
eyeball the thing, then beg for its
purchase of platelets—
that’s what we need—and
like the widow in Luke eighteen
we’ll keep up our plea. We’re
Dan, my preprogrammed weekly entries will, perhaps, be timely today, timed as they were to mark the anniversaries of Josh's hospitalizations in 2014 and 1990. Meanwhile I like your never ending vigil poem. Here is a peak ahead, to my entry for September 25:
ReplyDelete“Imagine you are a woman now
with only ten coins to your name,
And then suppose you find one day
that you had lost one of your coins:
Which of you would not turn up the lights
and sweep out your entire house,
Looking everywhere until you
found that one lost piece of silver,
And in that coin would you not find
the grounds to dance, a cause to call
Your friends and neighbors, all of them,
to share the joy with you? I tell you,
So do heaven’s angels sing and dance,
God’s very name pronounced
With celebration every time
a single sinner simply turns
around.