January
2007
Somebody had to be Judas
Somebody had to be Judas.
Don’t think I don’t see that.
Bad luck
for me.
Good news, of course,
for Christians everywhere.
It was such a strange week:
the febrile arrival -
Jesusmania -
the nervous soldiery,
the angry shaken beards.
The transaction.
And then that wholly awful night -
“Is it me, Lord? Is it me?”
That business with the bread.
Then - general hubbub,
upturned tables …
You try flouncing out in sandals.
They say he agonised for hours,
crying “Lord, I am not worthy!”
Was I worthy?
Through me was accomplished
the Redemption.
I could not
not kiss him
in the garden,
in the torches’ flare.
So I went down,
to perpetual suffering, I suppose -
to eternal ignominy, I expect …
There was never more joy in heaven.
One homecoming king.
One fatted calf.