Your eyes were the window to my soul,
your beauty was each in the muscular gathering.
God created what no one else could find,
two people stretched in merger of the mind.

Just to feel, just to reach, just to touch,
fingertips stretching out, this place of flesh
Your nails piercing in hand,
as unto Christ, this cross we burden

Such wounds of past temptation,
others to sin upon this being of us.
When tomorrow the deity will be heart beats,
each one a new breath, as touching breasts.

To share this passion, as to woollen garments,
tailored as to mankind, in tranquillity.
Your eyes that brightness, emeralds of wealth,
this day, this serenity, patience and surrender.
A man, a woman, and a word called: Love.

"The other disciples therefore said unto him, We have seen the
Lord. But he said unto them, Except I shall see in his hands
the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the
nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe."
John 20: 25 KJV

© 2006 Christopher W Herbert (a New Zealand Poet)

a poet who cares