Traitor, hypocrite, informant, fraud -
Confined to Hell’s Ninth Circle,
A reminder the heart is deceitful above all else
And desperately wicked.
Your name suggests a dad
Well-versed in Holy texts,
A mother’s hope for her son.
You were the South’s sole disciple,
Isolated from the start,
By His love, His parables, His feats,
Perhaps performing miracles yourself -
The lame could walk, the mute could talk,
And the dead could burst from their graves.
But afterwards you became disillusioned;
Your heart hardened like the aspen wood
On which He would be nailed.
You could not grasp
He would not saddle a white horse for conquest
But would save the world through
on Golgotha’s Hill.
Alas, you negotiated a deal, struck a bargain,
And with kisses you sold your soul and the Saviour
For thirty pieces of silver,
A price foretold.
Then with blood on your hands,
You discarded the shekels in the temple
And hung yourself on a tree,
A fitting reminder your sins would find you out.
Judas, you walked with God
And knew what could have been.
Now your bones dry in Potter’s Field,
To await the final judgement,
And we honour you
In the tradition of Cain.
Jo Taylor is a retired English teacher from Georgia who enjoys writing poetry on faith and family. "Judas" came about during Holy Week shortly after an in-depth study of John's gospel.
The Ekphrastic Review
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