The First Stone

On that sad day,
He saved my life and soul,
His voice they did obey,
When he challenged them all.

Their hands armed with stones,
Hearts filled with loath,
Faces of scorns and frowns,
They dragged me tearing my cloth.

At His feet they shoved me,
A prostitute condemned to die,
Together they passed a decree,
Fabricated; nothing but a lie,
“Master she was caught in the act,
and Moses said that as such we should kill!”
Mercy and sympathy they lacked,
United in wicked zeal.

Silently He wrote on the ground,
As my accusers incessantly screamed,
Baying for my blood like a hound,
My pleas they didn’t heed,
Then He issued a command,
“Let he who is without sin,
Cast the first stone.”

the sinful woman

As I held my breath,
And waited for a hail of rocks,
To pound my mortal body to death,
I heard feet shuffling and a few clicks,
Then loud silence reigned.
“Where are thy accusers?”
A gentle voice queried,
Though I lacked answers,
“None Lord,” I quivered,
“Neither shall I judge you
Go and sin no more”
That I was forgiven I knew,
How I felt relieved,
My life I’d start a new,
How I felt loved,
And thus I swore,
Never to sin as before!

Owino Ooko

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