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I fall,
and swords pierce the night
through my frail skin,
crowned the assault
in the place of the skull
like one even longer ago.
My seed rises and blooms
a shadow of those
who placed you first
and sailed
assailed
to a glorious land.
Now they walk by
not understanding, not seeing,
laughing, running, shouting
a single glance where the floor
cries “Thomas”
screams where I was silenced.
Then one kneels and prays
who understands the place where
your love
was once again displayed
in mortal life.
I stand amidst thousands, millions,
proclaiming the truth with our very lives
A truth the world
so viciously denies.
Written during a visit to Martyrdom at Canterbury Cathedral
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