Monday Rewrite: Fault Line

Perhaps it was the tree’s fault, looking so bright and splendid and accessible.
Perhaps it was the hyena’s fault, howling so early and waking them up.
Or the birdsong that refused to let them get back to sleep and so left them feeling just that little bit tired and weak-willed.
Perhaps it was the garden’s fault, so many trees, it was hard to recall which was the significant one.
Perhaps it was the sun’s fault for shining on that particular piece of fruit, the light bouncing off it and making it stand out like a precious jewel.
Perhaps it was the fruit’s fault, for coming away so easily in their grasp.
And for tasting so good, if it had been bitter they might have spit it straight out.
And what about the talking snake? If it had not had a voice in the first place…
Perhaps it was the universe’s fault, life’s fault. Today’s fault.
Anybody’s fault but theirs.
As they stand here with juice on their chins and soft, sweet pulp in their fingers.
Yes.
Anybody’s fault but theirs.
Or is it?…

Dare they look in that nearby pool of clear water?
See themselves reflected?
Have the truth set them free?
Notice something else.

That shadowy, unpopular figure over there.
The one in the distance.
The criminal.
The dying man.
The fool on the hill.
The one with blood on his chin and pain disfiguring his fingers.
Perhaps they can nail it on him now.
Let him carry the trouble and responsibility.
The pain and regret.
The end of something so beautiful and perfect.
Perhaps his shoulders are big enough.
As his body contorts, and his lungs gasp for their last breath.
Yes.
Let’s leave it with him.
Everything. All that has collapsed, all the bickering, all the evil, all that is the twisted wreck of this world.
Let’s leave it with him.

Romans 5 v 12-19

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