I was not there when they first saw the Lord,
and did not believe the disciple's word.
"We have seen the Lord, " they all said to me,
but it seemed too impossible to be.
He can't be alive because He'd just died.
I'd need to thrust my hands into His side
and put my fingers where the nails had been,
before I believed what they said they'd seen.
But the next time Jesus came I was there,
and I saw His wounds and became aware,
of Who He really was and why He died.
"My Lord and my God, " I fell down and cried.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem