I remember the night, a boy just twelve,
Wide-eyed in the bed I lay;
The thoughts kept flashing through my mind
Of the things I had seen that day.

I sat up on the edge of my bed,
Looking down where my little dog lay;
He raised his head and lifted his ears,
Eager to hear what I had to say.

I said, “Little dog, you always listen,
My parents say you can’t understand;
But seeing the way you look at me,
I really believe you can.

The crucifixion today bothered me,
In a way it never has before.
The one named Jesus they crucified,
Was a man, but seemed much more.

He acted different than the other two,
He showed forgiveness; that seemed odd.
I asked my mother who Jesus was,
She said, “He claims the Son of God.”

I asked her if she believed Him;
She said, “Yes, I really do.”
As they drove a nail into His hand,
She asked, “Son, what about you?”

I watched Jesus as He grimaced,
In such pain He arched His back.
But still He showed a meekness
That the other men seemed to lack.

Then as if He’d heard my thoughts,
He looked up to my surprise;
With pain in His face, He smiled at me
As tears ran from His eyes.

As the blood flowed from His body,
The people mocked and laughed.
But despite their hate, He prayed and asked
Forgiveness on their behalf.”

As I told this story, I began to cry;
My dog’s eyes were watering too.
I almost believe he could understand,
I almost believe he knew.

It was good to have him to listen,
Though to some that may seem odd;
But it helped me to clear my mind and know,
Jesus is the Son of God!

 ©1995  A. Mitchell Moore, Jr.