"The Rocks," A Poetry Post

I am amazed by this witch hunt for
every man's darkness,
by the willful turning over of
stones to find wickedness,
by the crowd-sourced, crowd-funded
judgment of men whose
sins are in print.

If we will throw stones at the glass homes of some,
then we must raise the edges of the stones in our homes and
gather the witnesses to our own indiscretions for the
shattering of our own frail empires.

We must judge rightly and not lightly
every person's "sealed records."
Unseal them and unseat your idols.
Your trusted friends have been criminals:
thieves, rapists and drug dealers,
traffickers and addicts.

They have extorted money from the
elderly.

Winked.

They have served tainted food
at their family parties.

Winked.

They have stolen money
from their children's college funds
to purchase
new cars.

Winked.

If we will throw rocks for the stoning of some,
we must not only stone one but
expect to be hit mercilessly by our
own punishing crowds.

If we will anchor and drown one heretic
for working dark magic on the populace,
we must also tie cement blocks
around the necks of those who
broadcast pornography
to their toddlers
at primetime.

We must bind the mothers
who give their little girls' bodies
freely to the world by
handing over smartphones and
access to private chat rooms without
supervision.

Every strange overnight guest
that has given a man's daughter
a bath
should be
thrashed.

For leaving our offspring with
aunties and uncles to
catch the club bus to
Vegas for the weekend.

For selling our foodstamps
to purchase trendy clothes
at the expense of our
babies' bellies.

For teaching our little boys
how to guzzle alcohol
until they can't remember.

For showing our daughters
how short a
short skirt can be before
all of a woman can be
seen.

For ruining marriages
by drawing away husbands and wives
in their moments of weakness.

For ruining fathers' reputations
by never taking an ounce of responsibility
for building a broken family.

For intentionally lying, lying and lying
to generation after generation and
bringing about the TOTAL DESTRUCTION
of hundreds and hundreds of our descendants,
we must pick up all of the rocks,
all of the stones,
all of the slung insults and
rain them down upon ourselves.

If we will judge rightly and honestly,
all of the rocks we now throw
belong right where they come from...
in the hands--tied down--
to the flingers,
to be worn like bloody jewelry.

But we do not judge so.
We forgive some and not all and
take great pleasure in watching a
sinful man fall and
fall and fall.

We take pleasure in seeing one fall
until our time comes.

-T. D. James-Moss