A son of India <br />Rose from the breast of east <br />Traveled west <br />Breathed the London air <br />And when he returned from there <br />After a short while <br />From that splendorous land <br />From that glorious land <br />Of skyscrapers and dazzling lights <br />He was asked to share <br />The most captivating sight <br />That he had brought home <br />He said: I saw there but one thing <br /> A ruin of the past world war blitz <br />A Christ that was resurrected <br />That was reassembled <br />It was a statue of Him <br />Bereft of palms <br />Below which were inscribed the words <br />‘Christ has lost his palms <br />Give yours unto Him’ <br />He says: Whenever I see <br />The fingerless palms or the palmless arms <br />Of my fellowmen here <br />I see that Christ <br />And my arms stretch forward. <br />Yes, those arms had stretched forward <br />Quite long before <br />And wrought miracles.<br /><br />Kannan G<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/m-baba-amte-1994-the-sight-of-christ/
