This all looks good, but where are your wounds?
My wounds? Yes, where are your nail marks?
Where are the scratches on your back from carrying
anothers' burden? Where is the blood you shed for your mother
where is the ache in your soul for the pains of your brother?
In the end, when anything and everything is lost
your wounds, on your tender and sacred heart, in sympathy and health
matter most, for the way you felt upon that cross
will be more than enough to pay your sins' cost.