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HE Wrote in the Sand
He wrote into the sand the Lord,
He stooped and wrote and wrote,
But nobody could read a word,
They understood it not.
“Come on and drag her forward men!-
The caught adulteress,
We found her in a sleazy den
In stance promiscuous”
It‘s death - so Moses says it‘s death
What are you waiting for?
Stone her to death, for death,- no less
For a convicted whore.
So howled so many a bald zealot
“Stone the adulteress,
It‘s nice to see a harlot‘s blood
Caught in forbid caress!”.
Beware of zealots without job
That wanting work must stone
And with assistance of the mob
Break sinners’ every bone
“Now Master say! - “It’s Moses Law
Says stoning is alright,
We witnessed it,- behold we saw
The harlot on that site.
But oh! the Master He said naught,
But wrote into the sand,
Perhaps a mystery of God
They could not understand.
Or did He write into the sod
More than adultery?
And thus reveal an artful plot
Hatched up in secrecy.
Dismissed her partner of the tryst,
But brought her forth alone,
To well ensnare and trap the Christ,
Ere flinging rock and stone.
A plot concocted cunningly
By worthy men bigot,
In dens of foul iniquity
In need of a scapegoat.
But He wrote into sand and they
Stood shamed and now revealed
As predators that lost their prey,-
While all their beans were spilled.
In king Nebuchadnezzar’s hall
A hand mysterious
Wrote unknown letters on the wall,
That none could read or guess.
Will He continue with His writ?
Confounding the zealot
Where mercy find no space to sit
And thus no space for God.
Or did He write: “where is the chap
The cunning absentee,
That lets his sweetheart take the rap
Bring him at once to me”
They slinked away and left the scene,
The hapless woman cried,
And looked into the eyes wherein
Shone deep compassion’s light
John VIII.3
© Elizabeth Dandy
A plot concocted cunningly
By worthy men bigot,
In dens of foul iniquity
In need of a scapegoat.
But He wrote into sand and they
Stood shamed and now revealed
As predators that lost their prey,-
While all their beans were spilled.
In king Nebuchadnezzar’s hall
A hand mysterious
Wrote unknown letters on the wall,
That none could read or guess.
Will He continue with His writ?
Confounding the zealot
Where mercy find no space to sit
And thus no space for God.
Or did He write: “where is the chap
The cunning absentee,
That lets his sweetheart take the rap
Bring him at once to me”
They slinked away and left the scene,
The hapless woman cried,
And looked into the eyes wherein
Shone deep compassion’s light
John VIII.3
© Elizabeth Dandy
.
