Friday, August 7, 2009

A Poem

"Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you? She replied, "No one, sir." John 8:10-11

Why is he writing in the dirt?
They brought me here, dragging me
through the dust and the filth of the
street, flinging me down, making me
know shame.

They are yelling at him- teacher look
at this whore, she what she's done
It was their hatred made me what
I am. Still he writes in the dirt, I read
my name.

They have stones in hand, to kill and
bury me, but slowly their jeering stills.
I am afraid like I have never been before
as he speaks, but one by one they drop
their stones.

Footsteps fade into the distance and
the dust kicked up makes my eyes
water. I still have not looked up, not
seen his face, but I know that he and I are
alone.

Where are they? He would know
better than I, yet he asks. Has no
one condemned you. They have condemned
me for years with their laughter at
my pain.

I know that's not what he's asking so
I find my voice and tell him no, waiting
for the judgment. Instead he offers
something new. Go then, and be whole
again.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

sounds like one heck've a jounral entry...