Prayer of Thomas

Love me
 for my doubts, my Lord.
 I was not there to see you
 fresh-risen, sore-fleshed,
 wide-eyed at a morning
 stirred with Spring.
 Once I had offered
 to go with you
 when all the others
would have stayed behind,
 offered to step into
 the barrens of death
 to be by your side.
 But your journey
was not mine to make,
 your death so bitter
that no sweet thing was left
for me to seek.
 Forgive me, then,
 your flawed and faithless twin,
 for needing to see you,
 to touch the wounded hand
 that holds my heart still.
 Come to my uncertainty
 with your kindness,
 touch my wounds
with your risen finger,
 and let me believe the song
 that wants to sing in me.

--Timothy Haut, Deep River, CT