Frenzied shouting, dust stirred up by beaten sandals.
A body in a heap upon the dirt.
Tears fall, creating, spots of mud,
Hair hiding the shame
Fists clenched, ruddy weapons raised,
Chests puffed out in anticipation
Cringing in preparation for the words of death
Eyes searching, reading, seeing the words
In the dirt
“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
And the glass houses shatter