I will not ask for what I want;
I wouldn't dare presume.
I shut my hope away to haunt
a locked and bolted room.
What am I is I ask to see,
when blessèd are the blind?
Could I allow mysef to be
so faithless and unkind?
Besides, he said—his word is sure—
the clean of heart see God,
and well he knows my heart heart impure,
so I shall see him not.
But blest are they that have not seen!
If I could but believe.
For sure, those meadows fresh and green
would give me some reprieve
from longing that will only grow,
though it pass not my lips,
to see what no one else could show
and none can counterfeit.
Yet something that will not be mocked
cries, “Lord, I want to see!”
until you come where doors are locked
and show your wounds to me.
Doubting Thomas – Google Art Project By Unknown – illuminator – hgFUz6bXaLmUQQ at Google Cultural Institute maximum zoom level, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22185693
Kate Bluett 