Scribbling in the Sand

Amidst a mob of madmen
 She stood frightened and alone
 As hate filled voices hissed at Him
 That she should now 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 a single word
 The same finger of the strong hand
 That had written ten commands
 For now was simply scribbling in the sand
 Within the space of space and time
 He 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 women found
 That they were all alone
 It was silence, it was music
 It was art, it was absurd
 He stooped and shouted volumes
 Without saying a single word
 The same finger of the strong hand
 That had written ten commands
 For now was simply scribbling in the sand
 Could that same finger come
 And trace my soul's sacred sand?
 And make some unexpected space
 Where I could understand?
 That my own condemnation pierced
 And broke that gentle hand
 That scratched the words I'll never know, written in the sand
 It was silence, it was music
 It was art, it was absurd
 He stooped and shouted volumes
 Without saying a single word
 The same finger of the strong hand
 That had written ten commands
 For now was simply scribbling in the sand
 The same finger of the strong hand
 That had written ten commands
 For now was simply scribbling in the sand