Cary Briel

She was caught,
It appears red handed, 
And into the deep
Her soul had landed;
There was no excuse- none was loosed,
Her accusers stood firm,
Her future seemed stranded;

This is law
After all,
Transgress and you fall,
No need to plead
For Him to spare,
The book knew the deed,
The fate of each hair,
And as it was
There was no need to care;

Not only this,
The dust writer was trapped,
Should He plead- He’ll be wrapped
In a world of crap,
For as I said- this is law,
And with law there’s no room
For mens’ hearts to thaw;

So as dust writer wrote
And cases were made,
Her frame to be smote,
Her body to be laid- in a tomb fit for a maid,
She sat in a heap
Ashamed of her acts,
No escape from the facts;

As she sat in her shame,
As He wrote in the dust
And remembered His name;
I should recall
An occurrence that must
be considered today;

Another man
Amidst desert sand,
Who defied the wishes
Of an Almighty hand,
Who was set to destroy
And not spare to the man;
His pleadings he sent
On the warm desert air,
To ask for relent,
And even repent,
The turn of His stare;