This is actually something i wrote quite some time ago, years in fact, and on re-finding my old books of poems, prose and stories thought i would begin to type them up and put them on here. Funny how all my drafts are done using good old fashioned pen and paper but nothing is final until its typed up, spell checked, font changed etc etc. I doubt Charles Wesley had such amenities available in his day.... However in our Sunday morning meeting this week the leader touched on the story of the adulterous women in John 8:3-11 which inspired me even more to get this typed up and posted, it seemed to fit quite well.
The noise around me seemed distant, muffled almost;
screams and shouts blended with faces and bodies, indistinguishable, just noise; babbling hatred, screaming judgement, still so far off I could almost pretend it was not real but the impact of their shouts as words of hatred rained upon reminded me it was
Then, silence…
no the screaming had not just faded into non-existence,
no the shouts had not just risen beyond hearing,
there really was silence.
Painful, deep, silence.
I dared not raise my head and look out through my hair which hung down across my face,
stifled silence, choked and screaming with unsaid words.
And then a clear voice spoke out, sharp, it was behind me, in front of me, beside me,
like my hearing had been fine tuned, too clear to the head.
Then silence once more, but the sharpness still carried out across the wind.
Only then did I manage to open one swollen bruised eye and look out through the vale of hair that covered my face.
That man.
His voice held everyone single person in the crowd.
That man.
He was stood so far away that his features were blurred,
but his voice was pounding in my chest.
I watched with one eye open as my hands subconsciously withdrew from my head.
That man.
He spat in the dust,
once
twice
rubbed the saliva spotted area with one foot, dust swirling upward with each movement.
Slowly he bent down; I had to lift my head to see as he ran his fingers across the ground.
Unexplainable signs, letters, words.
And still silence.
He stood again, and then I felt it,
that heart tearing pain, searing through my whole body.
Save me, save me my silenced mouth screamed.
I couldn’t bear that look any more,
my head curled down as I clasped my arms tight to my chest,
cowering, hiding in myself, trying to hide from those eyes that burned, that cut deeper than any stones or rocks they could throw.
Then, nothing – almost as if for me time had stopped, it no longer existed.
Was this death?
Had they struck that fatal blow that would release me
Forever this stillness, which seemed to go on and on and on…
I didn’t see the old man who, when he had found me, had pointed a long crooked finger at me and with a look of complete disgust spat in my face.
Adulterer, whore, harlot, they had shouted.
I didn’t see the old man unable to speak or utter one word slowly turn and walk away through the crowd.
I didn’t see the other priests one by one begin to follow him as the stunned crowd parted like water before them.
My world had stopped existing.
I felt a gentle hand upon my shoulder.
That man.
He tenderly drew my head up and looked into my face,
'look, they have all left' he spoke softly, unhurried.
He looked questioningly at me for a few minutes,
'do you find yourself condemned here today' his voice invited trust and faith.
I tried to swallow, I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came.
Still breathing heavily I tried again,
'n…no my…my Lord, I do not'.
It took all my strength to utter those words.
The warmth and love that came from his eyes as he looked at me overwhelmed me.
'Then return to your home but sin no more' was all he said.
I could only but obey his command and stumbled back towards the city gate,
tears running down my face,
mingling with the dried sweat, blood and dust.
I looked back once more at that man.
My life was never the same again.
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