Sean Walsh

Just Another Blind Beggar

Just Another Blind Beggar

 

 

He sat by the roadside

in squalor and darkness,

a cloak about frail shoulders,

empty bowl to hand…

Bartimaeus.

‘Sensed crowds gathering…

caught snatches of chatter,

ripples of excitement:

He has left Jerico…Jesus of Nazareth…

Coming this way…

Will pass by. Soon now. Soon…

 

The blind man suddenly alert, electric:

Chance? A chance! Why not? Oh, yes!

I have heard about this man!

‘Known to cure, a worker of miracles!

Then try! Oh, at least try!

 

A deep breath, then a shout out

in desperate determination:

Jesus! Jesus son of David!

Have pity on me!

 

Again. And again. More, more!

And louder. Louder still!

Don’t stop, don’t stop!

Ignore the negative voices:

Be quiet! Shusssh, will you! Stop shouting!

Will someone shut him up?!

 

And the more they tried to quell him,

the more he called out!

Then he coughed, gasped… winded, hoarse…

And even as he slumped

some who knew him were on hand:

Jesus summons you! He has heard your cry!

Then come! Up you get, son of Timaeus!

 

They helped him as he struggled to his feet…

threw off his cloak… stepped out and unto

the road… arms extended…

People parted, making way for him…

guiding him as he stumbled forward –

to Jesus.

What do you want me to do for you?

 

The crowds quiet now, intent on revelation.

The blind man on his knees,

hands joined in supplication:

Oh, Rabbi! Good Master! I beg, beg of you!

Let me see again!…

 

A stillness. Then Jesus spoke:

Go. Your faith has saved you…

 

Instantly he could see!

‘Looked up – into the face

of the Healer.

And from the many who had witnessed:

a sea of sighs and wonderment.

Then Jesus turned away,

began again his journey…

Some checking as they passed:

Can he really see?

 

He turned, making to go back…

stopped… hesitant… unsure.

Back? To what?..

Then he turned again… determined.

‘Set off along the way…

intent on following Jesus.

#

In the West a rich sunset…

Few now on the road from Jerico,

stopping to recall the miracle –

adding to the narrative here,

a further touch of colour there –

securing an oral testament…

In a clearing by the roadside:

trampled grass…

a cloak…

a begging bowl.