Thomas doubted: seeing, then believed;
Touched the wounded hands, the pierced side,
Knew once for all his Lord and God; received
The Word and taught it. While I, Lord, in my pride
Am shown your light and still trip over doubt,
Seeking in foolishness to understand
The infinite with my finite wit, am out,
Then, of my moral mind; reject your hand
At the same moment that I hold it tight.
Knowing, I know not all things I know;
Hearing, I hear not; seeing, seek the light;
Standing, fly skywards; running, am too slow.
........ Here in captivity where my song is wrung
........ Help me to find again my native tongue.


1 comment:

melanie's all my favorite things said...

love the picture, love L'Engle...don't lose sight of the beauty that is you!