Poem – Beauty Restored

As you read this I will most likely be in a large hall with 14 other people, rehearsing for a performance of the gospel of Mark. The rehearsal is all day followed by a performance, thus I’m scheduling this post ahead of time… xD Let me explain a little bit more so you’re not confused.

The Mark Drama is a 90 minute performance by 15 actors of all the incidents of Mark’s gospel, done in theatre-in-the-round style. It’s actually genius, and I’m absolutely thrilled that my church is doing it. I’m playing the role of James, one of the four disciples of Jesus and it’s grand fun! It’s a super intense weekend with about 13 hours of rehearsals and then 2 performances all in the space of about 72 hours. It’s incredibly powerful for both the cast and the audience, and I’m so excited to see how God is going to use this to bring people to Him! 

Anyhow… You may be wondering why I’m disclosing this random piece of information to you… 😀 Well, it does relate, I promise. You see, today I’m going to be sharing a poem based on an incident in Mark’s gospel – the second half of Mark 5 to be exact. It is the story of a woman who struggled with a mysterious bleeding disease for 12 years, and, well… I’ll let you read the poem for yourself. 😉


I didn’t think much of it when it started – the bleeding I mean…

I’m a woman after all

But when it didn’t stop and didn’t stop and didn’t stop….

Then I noticed it.

‘Unclean!’ silently screaming from my prolonged shame

As scarlet shadowed me until I became just a wraith of my former self

Clothed in humiliation as my body betrayed me day after day –

 A malfunctioning vessel, weakened and a failure

That’s what I was.

Blood led to doctors

and more blood led to more doctors.

Days turned into months that turned into years,

And still I was haunted by that scarlet shame that clung to me no matter

How hard I prayed, how many doctors I tried…

Still I was unclean –

Weakened by the years, the disease digging deeper into my flesh every day

I withered like a flower under the noon day sun –

A thing of beauty destroyed under a power greater than I.


I didn’t think much of him when I first heard – a wandering, Nazarite carpenter….

A miracle maker?

Ha, I wish.

This Galilean teacher with hordes of people following him – how could he

Find me and take the time to touch me and to heal me?

I’d given up on miracles years ago, living hopelessly day by day, watching

As my body failed me a little more and weakened just a little more

And still – scarlet haunted me.

But somehow, underneath the weary waiting I still clung to a small hope that perhaps –

Perhaps this man might be different

From every other man that has tried to heal me.

Stupid, I know.

But still…

And so I went when I heard he was coming to town,

Creeping through alleys and behind houses, cringing every time I heard

“Unclean!” echoing in my ears as the people recoiled from me.

Somehow slipping through the masses of people, I made it close to him –

Close enough to see the dust caked on his feet and to catch a glimpse

Of those quiet eyes with a glint of something strange within their depths.

I didn’t dare call out to him, didn’t dare call attention to my shame, didn’t dare….

Only touch the edge of his robe and perhaps this rumoured power

Can heal me?

Stooping, covering my face, trembling fingers brush the hem of a worn and dusty cloth

I feel the sun hot on my back

The ground hard beneath my feet

And then

Who touched me? – comes his voice ringing through the clamour of people

A nervous laugh and a whispered conversation and in that instant I know

I am that one.

Trembling with fear and shame – nothing new to me – I step forwards,

Do I dare to look at him? One glance into those eyes and I know he has seen

My scarlet-hued shame and the deepest corners of my secret soul.

I fall down to that familiar place – my knees digging into dust and words tumble

Like the flood spilling over the sides of my eyes


He speaks, lifting my shame from my weary shoulders

Go in peace. Your faith has made you well

And with those words he lifts me to my feet and – and

Somehow I know my shame is gone



I didn’t know what to think after that… – after that moment with that man.

All I knew was that my scarlet shame had been lifted like a broken curse

From my weary body

And I was free.

I felt myself blooming like a flower under the morning sun

And I knew that I had become

A thing of beauty restored by a power greater than I.


Aaand that’s it for today! Thanks for reading! 🙂

So, what do you think? I’d love to hear your thoughts on the poem in the comments below! Also, have you ever heard of The Mark Drama?


Author: Hannah

Jesus follower. writer. bibliophile. dreamer.

3 thoughts on “Poem – Beauty Restored”

  1. Touching, Hannah! The scripture (of course) can be so inspiring. I’ve been praying for you this weekend — for strength, joy and good memories. ☺️ And that many will come and be touched by the Gospel. I’ll look forward to your report next week’

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You masterfully portrayed this nameless woman’s humiliation, discouragement, and weakness, Hannah, as well as the love of our burden-bearer: Jesus. He healed because He saw her faith – if I touch, I will be healed – and restored.
    So glad you could be a part of the Mark drama and trust, through it, faith in Jesus was grown in many.

    Liked by 1 person

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