The men have come for me
just
as I saw them come
for
my own mother when
I
was a child.
I
watched as the stones flew
first
one, then another, then more
until
she fell for the last time.
Blood
on the ground.
Now
here I stand
before different men
with
different stones
who
call out the same foul names.
But
one Man says nothing.
Only
stoops and writes in the dirt.
Finally
he speaks.
“Go
on then, whoever
here
is without sin,
throw
the first stone.”
He
stoops again and writes
a
word? a name?
and
doesn't even look
as
men slowly walk away
impotent
their
rocks falling.
The Man stands and asks me
"Has anyone
condemned you?”
My
voice is shaking.
“No
one, sir.”
There is mercy in His eyes
as
He says
“Neither
do I condemn you.
Go,
leave your life of sin.”
Just
go?
(I had thought
by now my blood
would
soak those stones
but
no.)
Soon
it would be His
Blood
on the ground.
Mother
how I wish
you
had lived
to
know this mercy.
.
