Third Hand, First Hand

The whispers Thomas heard

walled him in with thought,

heart-sick, tormented, not

open to silly words.

Flesh to dead body. Then how

alive — and walking, here?

(He faced the brute facts more

than the ten others. He knew.)

Blind in his mirrory grief,

stony, he came to them. And

they heard “Stretch out your hand….”

Thomas abandoned proof.

They saw because they wanted to?

They all half-doubted when

He asked for fish and honeycomb,

took it, and ate it too.

It was the doctor later who

said it had been so.