He Gave Her A Book
She met him in a back alley in Sin City
that smelled of urine and cheap perfume.
A place where drugged-out girls went;
to sell their bodies for enough cash to buy their next fix.
She was a beautiful, sassy seductress
with an in-your-face attitude.
He approached her from the shadows,
startling her: as she baited him with obscene gestures.
But instead of arousing him, she saw a tear in his eye.
He asked her if she knew who Jesus was.
But before she could answer, he gave her a book, the Bible.
She had heard of Jesus from others before,
yet she had shown little interest.
But this man seemed different
than those fire-and-brimstone preachers.
He told her a story of a prostitute much like herself;
that the Son of God forgave and embraced.
He spoke to her, not about her,
and it felt strange, in a good way,
summoning a smile to her lips.
She never felt worthy of Jesus' love,
till he assured her she was wrong.
He asked her to read the book because it was written for her.
And as he disappeared into the night,
she whispered; I will.
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