"No stone"

(Composed on Ash Wednesday 2009, Inspired
by reading the Gospel of John chapter 8).

Face-first I tumble into the dirt,
Hurled by the angry thrust of my accuser.
My clothes are a mere draping of rags,
Ripped as he dragged me from the bed.

Here in the middle of the temple courtyard
I lie alone, exposed for all to see.
A trickle of blood runs down my cheek.

Publicly humiliated, they curse at me,
Shouting disgrace, contempt,
And words of judgment.

Shaking.
Trembling.

The scorching sun is overhead.
A pile of stones surrounds me,
As a mob gathers.

One man draws near.
My husband approaches me,
Bends to the ground,
And lifts a stone.

Anger and rage fill his eyes.
Clenching his fist, his knuckles turn red.
I turn my face, bracing for the impact
Of his bone-crushing justice.

The shouting ceases,
Stones tumble to the ground,
And the mob disperses.

Silence.
Stillness.

Lifting my eyes, I see a man's feet before me.
Slowly my gaze reaches his hand.
He holds no stone.

Instead, he gently extends his hand to me.
Love and compassion warm his eyes,
As a single tear trickles down his face.