Where does justice begin? In whom does justice remain?
When the perpetrator owns his crime. When he lets God’s light on his misdeeds shine.
When the clouds of self-righteousness are blown away, by the Holy and Steady wind of God.
Then, the victim’s words are heard. Then, the burden’s shared.
Then, an anger filled brush from the tip of a feather stings;
Deeper than the cutting of a cat-o’-nine-tails whip.
Oh! Lighten the load in his brother. Justice, worn like a cloak, cannot do better.
A whisper, a look, and he “guilty”,
No need anymore for revenge. The prisoner of regret knows his place.
There go we all, but for God’s Grace.