Autoimmune

Autoimmune: A Poem
Lord, my ev’ry cell bears your print
And of your wisdom gives a hint.
     Let my twisted body bring you glory
     For you write the lines of my story.
The twisted, broken cells remain
In your hand that all things contain;
     So you know them all, each and ev’ry one
     Yet before time and after time is done.
The broken cycles, paths, and more
Your fingers trace with purpose for--
     Your glory and my good, forever twined
     Even in this moment with suff’ring lined.

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb….
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
Psalm 139:13,16

Image by Skalekar 1992