He who is without sin cast the first stone,
wild, rowdy cheers baying for his blood,
they won’t leave him alone.
A nyaope addict’s cries for mercy
are drowned by roaring waves
of an angered crowd asking, “Where is the phone?”
Sticks and stones dancing in the air to their chants
ready to break his bones.

Church ladies, the doctor, even the lawyer
was part of the ugly scene,
but in all that lawless mess their faces could not be seen.
The pastor passing “justified” judgment,
hitting into the sweet fruit of sin,
as the police officer proposes pouring petrol on him.

He is all bloodied and bruised with nowhere to run,
finally paying for the wrong he has done.
Wrongfully accused and at the mercy of an incensed mob,
judged and crucified by everyone.
Their guilt whispers to them
that their crimes are less brutal than his,
choosing to ignore his agonising pleas,
feeling at liberty to decide how he
should pay for all his evil deeds.