I wonder at the disciples,
how slow they were to see,
how fearful 
and questioning.

They didn’t believe Mary Magdalene,
but she was after all
only a woman.
They were startled to find you
on the road to Emmaus.
And, when you came to them 
behind closed doors,
they were troubled,
questioning and
afraid.

Yet, had you not told them,
again and again. . .
and again?

Why?
Why did they,
who knew you in the flesh,
traveled with you,
witnessed your miracles,
heard you tell
the story of God’s love 
time and time again,
why did they not KNOW immediately?

Yet, am I so much better?
You show yourself to me
in the face
of the stranger on the street.
Do I see you?
You speak to me 
in the voice of a colleague.
Do I hear it is you?
Your love encircles me
in the embrace of my son. 
Do I feel your presence?

How many times
must I hear your voice,
feel your touch,
before I get it?