they found you again,
did they use their ointments, spices, cloth
to bandage your wounds?
from the halo of thorns;
how did you bear the grass
beneath your feet?
Midwives of the body,
did they wipe your hands with aloe,
wash away three days’ dirt,
pack your side with linen,
swaddle you in cast-off grave clothes,
smother your pain with their song,
you, who were a new creation
born anew from the wound of the earth?
With all of the attention on Thomas on the Second Sunday of Easter, I found myself wondering what it cost Christ to invite fresh exploration of his barely healing wounds, he who would not, would never stop giving of himself; and whether he would let them tend to him once more.
Image: Christus toont zijn wonden (1921), Gustave Van de Woestijne, via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain. (Detail)