I was so mortified, I wanted to crawl into a hole--
Not of justice, which is far too shallow,
Nor the deepest heart of the living Christ:
Somewhere dark and bemusing to behold--
Like to Justice' Halls, flickering in shadow,
Or the bleeding side of the dying Christ.
For I stoned with stones the unclean man, as we were told,
Words of justice--sacred and hallowed--
Spoken from the angry God before the birth of Christ.
Now I'm unclean and mortified on the whole
From a justice we find far too hollow
To stand against the words of the teaching Christ:
Him without sin shall cast the first strike;
Justice is mine sayeth the Lord, alone.
Love shall be your vengeance on the unclean man,
And mortified be the one who raises even the smallest stone.
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