Tuesday, November 26, 2013


   File:An Evening With The Hyena Man (2203295676).jpg  

There, where the brother slipped and fell
They lick their jowls and leap with glee
To pounce upon his misery
Lapping and tearing at his shell
Formed of like-dust, temptation-prone
Glibly they hurl stone after stone
Skulking-like hyenas they
Consume their fumbling, stumbling prey
Indignant at his sin, they spit
And jeer and point with judgment’s hand
Unlike the One who stooped, quiet
To write His verdict in the sand
They loom above his corpse with pride
Quite unaware of how he died…

© Janet Martin

 But Jesus stooped down and with His finger wrote on the ground. But when they persisted in asking Him, He straightened up, and said to them, "He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." Again He stooped down and wrote on the ground.…John 8:6-8

It is sickening to see the fodder for press and gossip sucked from struggling, stumbling fellow-men.

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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!