Were (Poetry)

At the moment that the shot is fired
does the bullet slow to watch
the target’s yellow eye — wink in the light
apologetic, almost shy?

Then, focused on its purpose
force the frightened air to part —
let it through
to do its job and forever stop
the banging hectic heart —
use the softest purest silver
forged with prayers
to kill the rabid beast —

undo sin
and set the man within
                                free