The field was brown and dusty
flat, save for the stones.
They laid there scattered, ready to trip
those walking the path alone.

They were dropped there by the Pharisees,
the signs of judgment, guilt, and shame
Their purpose was for justice and death –
yet they lay scattered on the plain.

They never hit their target
never launched, their purpose stays
They long to judge, inflict, and maim,
tripping all who walk their way.

But looking at that field of stones
I see forgiveness, abundant grace
The stones, unlaunched, were dropped instead
the sins to judge erased.