Share with me
your words

Make me know the face
The gaping hands
the sunkissed skin
The unwashed hair
the broken feet

Though not enough
(my will still evident)
There is another way-
Make me Thomas
and ask but thrice
That I may explain a doubt yet compromised:

That a fancy took a man
To pardon villains and condemn the saved

Adopting eleven (add a twelfth for foster care)
then spurning more
First the rich, then his junkies
And any prone to bore

He demanded death to dare refrain
Not from himself, but from the dead
To leave the weary to his hands
and the broken to his feet.

And the rest is simply religion.

So I must question (my doubt detailed)
That such a man as this
could praise your name
and call you Father.

That he would tread Calvary alone
To claim you goodness, kindness, self-control
To be the scapegoat for your sins
To be the price upon your head
and die
and live again.

And still, you let the world devour itself to darkness.
And still, you suffocate this faith.

This mustard seed.

So I bargain this:
Let also the diffident move mountains
Let also the lost find shelter
Let also the dead have hope
As once was promised.

And then

only then
will I call upon Your name

and wait.