The Face in the Window

From a cross he cried, “Forgive them.”
“I’m not mad at you,” she smiled.
Three times he fell,
Three shots rang out.
From the wood, his blood hit the ground;
From the car, the road turned red.

They say he walked again.
I asked if that is so.
Is this where her story ends?
Or did he know he’d need to be seen again
in this world of doubt and sin —
a world where mercy comes, if it comes at all,
from a car and a smiling face within?

Forgive them.
I’m not mad at you, dude.

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