Apostles

I swear I’ll always see you, even when I close my eyes. 
 I always did believe you when you said that you would rise. 
 I watched you feed one thousand. I watched you feed four more. 
 Kingdom clean and unbounded, hidden beneath the cellar door. 

 Beneath the barren fig tree – you spoke there of faith and doubt – 
 Threw mountains into the sea, cursed my roots, and cast me out. 
 I watched you walk on water. I saw you, bathed in light. 
 I watched you walk on water. I could not follow if I tried (and I tried). 

 I watched the spear in your side bringing forth water and blood. 
 That river would not run dry ‘til it reached the throne of God. 
 I heard the tearing curtain, the temple clothed in dark. 
 The sky remained uncertain. I washed my tunic in the yard. 

 I heard the women weeping. I saw the empty tomb. 
 Recalled a virgin sleeping, a saviour growing in her womb.