Spit

Mock, scorn, ridicule, shame

It was a byword that was my name

Passersby would laugh and shout

And from the temple courts keep me out

Not able to work, barely able to eat

All day long I’d sit at their feet

I didn’t mind their mocking and teasing one bit

But my soul would sink when at me they’d spit

Contempt, disgrace

Rolling down my face

Worthless, impure

Condemned for sure

Alas! I have had my hour fierce and sweet

When One stopped, and stooped down at my feet

He spat in the dirt and made some clay

And my eyes were opened twice that day