Stigmata

My Lord Jesus, the human God I can touch, poor shepherd who looked after us. You were crucified by our human brotherhood. Your innocent blood stain do the puritans can wash and clean their hands ever? You climbed the mountain Golgotha with the heavy cross, if I were there my Lord definitely I could have given my shoulder. I am carrying my cross since childhood and I realized the heaviness. I meet sometimes Judas with his thick curved mustache but still I am anxiously searching my dear Lord in this carnage.