It wasn’t intentional, the sin, but night had fallen and so had I. The weariness of soul brimmed and spilled.
A voice without words pressed and pushed until thoughts became actions that gave wings to things that should not be.
Sprained and limping was my soul as I sought to erase what I had done even as snippets of memory burned like acid rain.
Tears fell in silence as shadows of sorrow began to fill a heart that wanted to cut away the actions too painful to recall.
The accuser whispered words of condemnation. The repeated theme attempts to swirl smoky tendrils like chains around the heart.
Fingers point at this one crippled by sin she knows so well.
My hand clutches the stone I willingly will cast at my own sin.
Guilty is the anthem that stings my broken heart as the memory brings me low into the dust.
In the dust I find a covenant written in blood. Grief floods my heart as I bend to touch that promise etched by nail-scarred palms.
The stone rolls away.