I have faith the white roses will bloom
tomorrow. They’ll burst open headlong
like Judas in the field and spill themselves
remorseful upon the summer day.
By the way, I believe Judas will be in heaven.
I mean the man was just following his lines,
the script mastered so many years ago.
The only thing to thwart our roseworks display
would be a betrayal by some neighborhood punk
on a dare who walks into the garden after
dark to nip their confession in the buds.
I so often leave your posts open on my computer all day wondering how in the h-e-double-hockey-sticks to put my emotional reaction into words. Comment-worthy words, no less. I’m terrible at poetic analysis, but I’m good at feeling, and these poems make me feel.
(This one in particular is taking me back to Sunday School and my quiet struggles against what looked for all the world like a divine puppet show of tragedy. I’m grateful I’m not the only one who sees Judas in the roses.)
Hi, Bethany. Your comment made me smile on several levels. My daughter says ‘h-e-double-hockeys’ and just the phrase ‘Sunday School’ causes me to get misty-eyed. Thank you, and thanks for saying the poems make you feel.
Yeah, I’ve always had a soft spot for Judas…
Johnny Cash sang, “Meet Me Down There At The Train”, and one line was/is “I saw Judas Iscariot carrying John Wilkes Booth”.
Dad
Thanks, Dad, that line’s a keeper.
New agers like my brother believe judas was merely fullfilling his role in the great drama of the crucifixion,The Christian Bible verse of Mark 14;21 seems to disagree
scuse the preaching, as im no theologian
Hi, Mike. I’m no theologian either…I just call ’em like I see ’em. Hope you and yours are well.
So few lines. So much weight. And then I read your father’s comment…