what judgements now
the pillow makes –
of those
ten thousand more to break
hush the telling
of what our own –
so busy now the tongue

tary not
on grand design
to make of self the more
by fate
would lay aside the robes
of grace –
and gather yet
the rags of hate

would envy die
or greed consume
the righteous in resounding
how far the victor
falling – was not for wrong
the right

hear this prayer
was only one –
when held a sinner chained
returned to love
by one divine –
let love our truth
reclaim

Author’s Note: In light of this week’s announcements and
headline ‘falls from grace’. We sink no lower than the
moment we bend to pick the stone.  The only story we write is our own.