It was her grandmother’s Bible
big as a briefcase all stately brown leather
pictures aburst with colour leaking off the edges of the page
She always turned to the last moments on Golgotha
looking not at Him but at the man by His side
the thief and bandit
the murderer who comforted Him
It struck her that the man never asked for forgiveness
nor even mercy just
“Remember me.”
To think of someone
let them know you see them
was the purest act of love
Ink Stains 