“the greater number of a man’s errors come before him disguised under the specious form of necessity; then, after error has been committed in a moment of excitement, of delirium, or of fear, we see that we might have avoided and escaped it.”
― Alexandre Dumas

“It is better to lose your pride with someone you love rather than to lose that someone you love with your useless pride.”
― John Ruskin

(Blooming quince with small emerging fruit / Julie Cook / 2014)

Softly sweet, she bends gently in the breeze.
Like a thousand stars in an endless sky, tears glisten, falling down her cheeks,
The wicked words piece tender hearts ’til all her blood runs dry

Gentle demure petals bruise too quickly–
falling away, one by one. . .
He picks up the remaining flower, seemingly oblivious to the unfolding drama

Dark secrets hide in the shadows.
A long and twisted past clings to her bare skin.
She is lost in the misery she hides

Stones are prepared as He now slowly turns to look. . .
eyes quietly meet for the first time
Loss and fear desperately cry out to hope and mercy

A sad sorrowful soul is vexed
as its resigned head bows down to death
Suddenly a single statement is powerfully uttered, sending stones falling from anxious hands

The pious now quickly scatter, carrying away their own guilt
Only two remain present, misera et misericordia
Hope looking up, offers His hand to the remaining hopeless

She could be anyone of us
as the sins continue pounding the rocky shore
In the blink of an eye, the sea is calmed as the world is now quiet.

All is forgiven you.
Sin no more.