WELCOME!

I'm Walt. And I'm Marie Elena.
This is the collaboration of two kindred spirits; partners in rhyme;
"the best friends we've never met."
All "Across the Lake. Eerily."

Friday, April 22, 2011

THE BLOODY HANDS OF ISCARIOT

Forty pieces of silver has it's allure.
For sure, it could have bought enough
to feed a few and briefly ease their suffering.
But what you were offering was worth so much more.
I see that now. Too late, too late.
You always talked about your Father's will,
but nobody asked me what I wanted.
I wanted to stay and finish my meal.
I wanted to die in the oldness of my age.
I wanted you to be my Brother throughout.
And what I've found out won't change things.
Instead, we fought. I abandoned you.
I betrayed you. Sold you for some pocket change.
And in the end, you were beaten and broken.
Without words spoken, our eyes met and
every opportunity for a second chance
died, nailed to that tree. But I did not see.
Not then; not now. Blood money leaves
a nasty stain on beloved hearts.
I would have changed if I could,
but my fate was predicated,
and vermin like me are easily convinced.
In the end, we're all left hanging.
Does forgiveness come at the end of one's rope?



Walt

1 comment:

  1. Amazing, powerful piece. And I gotta say, I love that you chose "teacher" and "brothers" for your labels. Wow, Walt.

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