Twenty-two eyes focus most intently
My appearance they think has come incidentally
For though they’ve seen all by the heavily lit way
They stumble through fog that obscures the ray.

Nascent transparency soon to find them
Without my lamplight they’re all just blind men.

Twenty-two ears attuned to my speech
Yet don’t hear the words I’ve aimed to teach
Shouts of cacophony drown out the whispers
Missed all through the day now they seek in the vespers.

Obstructive wax hasn’t quite left them
‘Til my fingers expunge they’re all just deaf men.

Eleven men’s mouths agape at the table
Digesting the story they fear is a fable
Food fills their bellies although they are empty
Complain of their lack yet the baskets hold plenty

Approaching full purge of leaven that’s harmed them
Without my fresh bread they’re all just starved men.

Eleven hearts pound a surprised rush of blood
The room stilled by the specter and filled by the flood
Yet the muscles within these chests are arrested
New quickening to come to revive what’s congested

Soon cast the curse of the foul fiend who bled them
Receive my exhale or you’ll remain dead men.

*A reflection on John 20: 19-22