Christ wrote in the sand, where he stooped,
beside the “adulteress”, who trembled,
facing her imminent demise by stones,
as prescribed by the executives of religion.
And when, as reported, Christ said, while writing,
“Whoever is without sin, cast the first stone,”
there was a pause; we looked at each other,
our blood still high, but who, here,
would cast that guiltless stone?
We waited, too long, and the frenzied lust
of our righteousness dissipated like steam.
None of us could look at the face of the woman,
who had turned toward Christ,
or look at each other; only at the hunched figure
of the man who had spoken, who then went on writing.
Our hands hung down, weighted by rocks.
One dropped his stones, and limped away,
then another, and another. Christ kept on writing
in the dirt, verse that no one recorded,
in other words, the perfect poem,
the poem that came without effort,
made some humanity happen,
then was erased,
to make way for the next.
A beautiful and timely message. Thank you, Stephen.
Thank you, Laurie!
I love the ending and what it makes me think/feel about perfect poetry. Thanks for this.
Thank you, Dave. That means a lot to me.
Beautiful and thoughtful as usual. Thanks for this Stephen
Thank you so much, Kirk.
Way to go Stephen! You hit a home run with this one!
Thanks, Sheldon! Very happy it connected.
Beautiful and thought-provoking, as always. Thanks, Stephen!
Thank you, Marcia!
“executives of religion” – provocative thought!
Christ the pastor writing his poetry….
Pastors working as executives of religion – self-reflecting here….
Thanks.
Thanks Sam, always enjoy your reflections.
Hi Stephen,
I got to go to Orion’s annual Writing Workshop a couple of weeks ago and am still working at processing what the time had for me. I had a lot of emotions around what I know/don’t know about poetry and how much I have to learn…which was quite a wake up call. So your words about Jesus’ perfect poem really hit me where the ego confronts the desire to be what I am called to be. Your words, “in other words, the perfect poem, the poem that came without effort, made some humanity happen, then was erased, to make way for the next” seem like prayer to me. Amen and amen. Thank you so much.
Thank you for this, Ann. I attended Orion’s Wildbranch Workshop, in 2011, and it opened up new avenues for me. I’m sure it will for you as well.