Judas' Lament

Thirty pieces of silver, a slave’s price,

I took for the life of the Lord of Life.

Not out of greed, nor drear despite;

but out of love: twisted, yet bright.

I cared to be noted. 

To be a part of His world:

preferring lambent hate 

(not to be ignored)

to dim indifference; 

for she’s the truly frigid

antagonist of ardour’s heat. 

He blessed my bread

then, with gentlest deference,

He urged me on my way.

So with Him then I could not rightly stay,

and I stepped into the night:

not out of spite, nor sweet revenge;

but out of love: twisted yet bright.

I desired to affect Him.

To constrict Him to react to my brazen act.

Not to reject me: but account me

as a relevant and worthy opponent:

He knelt in prayer, his soul alight with fear and pain.

I gave him my kiss:

not out of treason, nor harsh betrayal;

but out of love: twisted yet bright.

He called me friend.

For me He’s to die.

Of love there is no greater token:

not kind caress, nor gentle word.

Now my heart is broken.

The silver pieces I did return,

redeeming the life I’d sadly sold:

not out of anger, nor wish to slight;

but out of love: twisted yet bright.

Now He is mine, as He hangs on high

and redeems my life from the grave.

Not out of need, or hope of gain;

but out of love: faithful and brave.

Hatred

There is a hatred,
reserved and well matured,
fermented long
– and then three times distilled –
that’s set aside for those
that once were loved.
Its bilious hue is intimately known
to all who’ve been betrayed
and who have had heart broken,
all who have been abandoned,
left disgraced – as for dead.


All those who drink this draught
will live to rue the day:
for it transforms the good into the bad,
and changes all affection to despite.
So when this cup is offered thee,
cast it away.
Do not hesitate.
Do not delay.
Remembering what was good,
though it is gone.
Accept the loss,
allow the wounds to heal;
let drop whatever tears must fall
and then pass on.