Judas

Judas
By Laura Adkins

Judas, you and I together once rode
in blessed company, our master we followed
as he performed miracles and preached to the crowds
with holy light shining on him from the clouds.

We watched him on water, as he walked so free,
his feet resting firm on the turbulent sea.
He fed five thousand men with our only bread
and turned meager rations into surplus instead.

He healed sickly women, staved off death,
into suffering children, He blew holy breath.
You were there when He preached his sermon on the mount
and witnessed more miracles than you can count.

Then you sat beside our master sweet,
emotionless as He washed your feet.
Drank from His chalice, dipped into His bowl,
shared His bread as He bared His soul.

You got up and left when He commanded you to,
"Go, do what you have to do."
Swiftly you flew to shady men
who exploited your weakness, gave silver for sin.

You followed them into Gethsemane's bliss
and betrayed our master with a dastardly kiss.
They chained him, restrained him, and spit in his face,
tried all that they knew, but could not him disgrace.

Now each little coin makes a jingling sound
yet within the walls of your fat purse you've drowned.
For secular wealth you betrayed your Lord,
the teacher, the master, the man you adored.

Our master is dead now, darkness befell the land,
and yet you were not there to witness firsthand.
For once you were told that from a cross He'd be hung,
You took leave of this world, and from the rafters you swung.