I am a leper.

Will you touch me?

I am unclean.

Can you afford the risk?

Who is this man?

Clearly approaching.

I drop my eyes.

Doesn’t he know?

“Unclean!” I shout.

He is not dissuaded.

“Save yourself from…from me!”

He tilts his head as if he recognizes me.

“I’m not the man I used to be.”

He nods knowingly, acceptingly.

He touches my sackcloth-covered shoulder.

I shudder and pull away.

He grabs both my shoulders, draws me in embrace.

Kisses my blistered mouth.

Who is this man?

Repelled not by decay.

What fitness is required?

My need for Him.