It takes a lot to believe
often there is nothing but
the desire to believe.
I know that the Teacher was
a man of God.
He healed, I saw it happen.
I could smell the festering lepers,
but after he touched them
I could see their flesh renewed,
revitalized. Pink and healthy.
I watched the paralyzed
man rise from his bed
and walk. It was impossible
to deny it. I didn’t need to believe
because all of the proof I needed
was in my memory.
But now you tell me that he somehow
just walked out of the tomb?
His body was broken! His blood
pooled through the wraps
and onto the slab even as we
laid him down.
I am ashamed of all of you for
Unless I see the nail holes in his hands
(his beautiful hands, the long fingers
that restored the eyes of the blind)
unless I can put my finger through the mark
and my hand through the gash in his side,
then and only then will I believe.
Who is there?
“Peace be with you”