Doubt

“But we don’t know the way”
That’s what I heard him say
As his pale, trembling hand reached out
To grasp an answer in the fray

Another cryptic answer, we thought
Is all we’d be taught
With a glimmer of hope given
But as to clarity, naught

“I am the way”, and what’s more,
“The truth, the life” and even “the door”
Came thus the reply
And doubts out of our conscience tore

Except the inquirer, his remained
Even after dawn, his doubt sustained
Until his hand touched the side
Where the spear acquired its bloodstain