A Second Touch

He’s in the fishing port again.
Once he trod the raging sea
part-way toward Bethsaida’s shore,
spooking the crew in dark pre-dawn,
until he called above the storm:
‘Don’t panic, guys, it’s only me!’

But on this calmer voyage here
he’d question after question posed
about their state of heart and mind.
‘Still you cannot understand,
though twice I’ve taken loaves in hand,
blessed, then broke the bread, and fed
nine thousand hungry mouths and more,
yet still you only vaguely see.’

After they had beached the boat
he was presented with a man
quite blind. He led him by the hand
outside of town, let loose his hold
and touched his eyes and asked him: ‘Now,
can you see anything at all?’

What if the man had claimed: ‘Wow? Cool!
It’s never been so good for me.
Hey, this is life! I now can see;’
when all he saw was light and shade
and passers-by as swaying trees?’

How like the Lord’s disciples who
twice had seen a huge crowd fed
by the touch of Jesus’ hand;
they too required a further touch,
removing cataracts from their hearts
to clearly see.

And later still,
when Jesus, risen from the tomb,
with nail-pierced hands had broken bread
for two who grieved that he was dead,
with open vision now they knew
who he was that on the way
had broken bread of Bible truth
to set their hearts aglow with hope.
Right then they saw he was alive –
just as he vanished from their sight.

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