NaPoWriMo 7

[artsyhonker]

You'd failed, abandoned us; you'd left.
Why should I think you could come back?
We struggled, lonely and bereft.
Your easy absence was our lack.

How to continue, left behind?
What good news could we truly tell?
And then, this weakness of the mind:
They said that you'd come back from Hell!

I can't accept it, won't conspire
To lie to people in their grief.
I need to see your wounds; require
A tactile witness for belief.

And yet, I thought I saw you wince
In love and care. And even though
It's been some twenty centuries since,
I've seen you bleeding here below.

You've picked me up, I've touched a welt;
Those scars are real, I will allow.
Mayhap I know how Thomas felt.
"My Lord, my God" -- I know you now.