There’s one stone on the ground by a scribe’s foot,
His blackened hands gesturing “either/or.”
The Teacher draws one answer in the soot.
Soon he’ll tell the woman, “go, sin no more.”
By old law, by the gates of the city,
They would’ve clustered around her and thrown,
According to each man’s judgement, a stone —
Some, pebbles, some, a brick — without pity.
A slow death for the sin of hapless sex.
The small ones stinging, the large breaking bone.
It might go on for hours, the crowd vexed
Why she won’t just die? Then, a silent lull.
Someone with a flagstone crushes her skull.
The Teacher with a word dulled such evil.
2 comments:
Wow very powerful!
Thought provoking and elegant, Christopher.
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