I trudged along the dusty road,
My head bowed low in shame.

And from the hills and through the air,
Voices of my accusers rang.

Oh, yes, I cried,
I deserve the worst,

For all they say is surely true .
In the beloved, I have no part.

With frantic hands I covered my ears,
But still the voices came.

Forgive me, Lord, forgive me.
How can I stop the pain?

Through weary days and sleepless nights,
The demon voices came.

Then, through the fog of my despair,
Hopeless, on my knees,

As gentle as the sweetest rain,
I heard Him call my name.

You are forgiven, child, He said,
Your accusers, where are they?

Back down the road from whence I came,
I looked through tear filled eyes.

Instead of sin, reproach and shame,
I saw nothing. Nothing, but the blood.

On trembling limbs, I stood tall,
New resolve flooded my soul.

My sins were forgiven, transgressions gone,
In the Beloved, I still have a part.

This poem was born during one of the most traumatic times of my life, when I felt I had failed myself, my God, my family, my church and destroyed my reputation as a Christian. In the midst of all the terrible pain of that period, I wrote much of the material that is now blessing others and God has turned my mourning into dancing!