TOUCHING THE HEM OF HIS GARMENT

hem-of-his-garment

I come to you afraid of death,
as an epileptic fears swallowing his tongue.
Come with faith that I know nothing.
A drunk man, naked and sweating in your sheets,
I come doubting my own existence.
White faced and sober, mouth spitting out ashes
I come to touch the hem of your garment.

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