You won’t believe me when I say this br Indeed I speak it still in fear br But the memory lingers with me, like the wound of a rusty nail br I saw the face of Jesus br Yes it’s true br No please don’t mock me br I did not believe it either, I did not recognize him at first br But then neither did the twelve in that dim ether long ago br His eyes were filled with love, inexplicable to me br And yet there was an anger and a sorrow, even fear br His hair was matted, rather dirty br And the clothes were worn and tattered, hardly elegant or refined br Yes, you laugh br And think I’m crazy br But I tell you that it’s true br I saw the face of Jesus br Imploring and alone br If only I’d seen him sooner, but I didn’t recognize him, you see br Till his body lay stiff and cold br Swaddled in the corner of the subway station, only ten or twelve years old br Homeless and forgotten br And believe me, you who will, with more venom than the Pharisees br Pontius Pilate and the rest br We have crucified Him br br Again. br br br (Previously published in Poetry Soul to Soul, Dec.