A man crossed a border, he crossed it a thousand times.
How was he to know that the last one was the line?
Thirty, forty, the numbers do not matter in the night.
Not when he was told to look up at the silver in the sky.
To be told the mysteries of the kingdom
Always replaceable, never complete.
The mountain, the plain, the water, the well, the fruit, the tithe. A Sin.
“Why are you worked up, you thirteenth demon?”
Rapids, a place of plenty where no giant is slain
For there are no giants, not need for
kings. Holy in all the right ways, repentance
for the seeds flung carelessly.
The stars have led you astray, Judas.
Genesis, Samuel. Always twelve, always twelve
sevens sevens sevens, the fool reversed, but he scored a six.
There’s still other gods. They live in the stars.
Look up, look up as the rope scratches
your neck. There’s nothing that the holy son can do,
you’re not looking at him anymore.
In searching for your god, you’ve lost your Humanity.
It’s as they told you Judas: you will be the only one to
They blame you more than they blame the high priest; the judge jury and executioner. The people
who mocked and shouted and denied,
they blame you and your blood money.
Somehow, you bought his rest. Nobody thanks you for that.
Your kiss of machination, was it a guilty goodbye?
On the third day, your feet are still cold, cracked and grey and
Spit upon by your brothers.
Your mouth hangs open, you want to plead that
this isn’t your intention but every good intention
I should hate you too. Somehow I can’t.
He pulled you down then, in the dead of night,
and removed your necklace, removed your yoke.
Cradled close, as if you were a babe, weeping
for the repentance they’ll never understand. Him
for all his worldly desires, did he bury you?
Did he bury you under the stars you so love,
under the darkness, the silver?
gummygunk
origamiaround
amandla
andulkaphoto
