If we could all
just stop throwing stones,
and stoop, knees bent
and write in the dust,
we'd see that the dust
was once stone--
grand, and hard, and proud, and tough--
now ground and dissolved
in grace and tears.
So...how much better
to be a grain of dirt
on that kind prophet's hands
than a stone
in the cold, accusing Temple
of the pure.
-Kester Brewin, from this book,
Other: Loving Self, God, and Neighbour in a World of Fractures
