Stones

 "Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her."  
John 8:7  
 
I kneel before you,  
a pile of stones erratically  
scattered amongst my feet  
 
Each one,  
having torn a piece of my flesh  
taken as a form of payment  
as it bounced off my body  
contently settling on the ground  
pridefully boasting, a job well done.    
 
Blood drips  
from my unrecognizable body,  
trickling down a once familiar path  
finding its way down to the earth  
seeping around  
and underneath the rocks.  
Trailing the scene of the crime  
whispering stories of the evident truth  
bearing witness to the shame.  
 
Standing across from me  
I watch the rage in your eyes  
fade to satisfaction, pleasure  
as vindication settles across your face.  
Panting, catching your breath  
You glance around at the mess, and smirk  
Eagerly awaiting my reaction.  
Preparing for retaliation  
expecting remorseful groveling.  
Demanding I beg for forgiveness  
and confess my sins.  
And why not? I’ve already paid for them.  
 
Having been skinned, and broken  
Forcefully cloaked in your false  narratives  
Adorning a scarlet letter for sins I didn’t commit  
I begin to lift my frailty off the ground  
 
Knowing there aren’t enough rocks in existence  
to calm the hurt within my heart.  
let alone, compensate  
for the magnitude of your sins.  
 
Understanding that  
judgement is not mine to give  
And neither is forgiveness.  
I am not the one  
to whom you account for your sins.  
 
Instead, I find my strength  
And slowly  
I rise...  
 
Pausing for just one moment  
glancing at the heavens  
Reminding you of the audience above  
I begin to walk towards you  
 
And in one profound movement,  
I lay grace at the base of your feet  
 
And walk away with dignity  
Guilt free