Scribbling In The Sand

Amidst a mob of madmen she stood frightened and alone

As hate-filled voices hissed at Him that she now she must be stoned.

But in the air around Him hung a vast and wordless love

Who knows what luminous lesson He was in the middle of

At first He faced the fury of their self righteous scorn

But then He stooped and at once became the calm eye of the storm

It was His wordless answer to their dark and cruel demand

A lifetime in a moment as He scribbled in the sand

It was silence. It was music

It was art. It was absurd

He stooped and shouted volumes

Without saying one single word

It was the finger of the hand

That had written ten commands

That now was simply scribbling in the sand

Within the space of space and time he'd scribbled in the sand

They came to hear and see as much as they could understand

Now bound by cords of kindness they couldn't cast a single stone

And Jesus and the woman found that they were all alone

Could that same Finger come and trace on my soul's sacred sand

And make some unexpected space where I could understand

That my own condemnation pierced and broke the gentle Hand

That scratched the words I'll never know

That scribbled in the sand