The Baptism
I tried to be John. As I soaked in the tub. Hoping that my sins would get washed away with the suds. I begged for God to join me. Hoping that He would keep His garment on. So I could be the lady with the issue of blood. I mean the lady with the issue of validation. The lady with the issue of anger. The lady with the issue of pain. The lady with the issue of selfishness. Low self esteem. And everything else that equaled why I was pretending. So I could just touch Him. And be cleaned. Be healed. To not think of the thoughts that would lead to my death. So I could know that I wasn't alone, and not just be told. So I could feel His embrace. To feel something other than loneliness in a full room. So He could tell me that my faith had made me well. So my tears could leave down the drain to. So that Roman's 8:18 could be a reality. So that I can have congenital insensitivity to anything that does not bring me joy. I tried to be the one baptizing and getting bapt...