[SAYS JUDAS]
“The Son of Man goeth as it is written...”
—Matthew 26:24

Born beneath Golgotha’s grim shade,

 My cradle rocked like a tomb freshly made.

 I was strung with sinew like harp wire,
Tuned for rupture, a fuse wound tight.
My ribs hummed psalms I never penned,
Each breath exhaled a scent of ash.
My hands stitched shut with prophecy —
What else could I cradle but silver?

Did You not sculpt me from the same dust of your Children—
Peter, sword raised and swift, Thomas, shrouded doubt,
John, the heart that beat against the veil—
And I, the spark, the silent rupture?
Your voice lit twelve candles in endless dark—
But mine was the first to gutter out,
A flame struck flint against the sky.

[SAYS GOD]
Did you think I forged miracles from mercy’s thread?
No, Judas — I architect from fracture, with wounds and dread.
I crown with briars that pierce the skin,
I raise empires by cutting within.
You were not a wound —
You were the knife I chose to wield,
The hinge on Eden’s closing gate —
Paradox reopened at honeyed dawn.

They call you traitor — but who else
Could bear midnight’s bitter pulse?
Who else but you would bleed the night,
Cast the shadow, bear the blight?

[SAYS JUDAS]
But I loved Him — this is the cruelest fire.
You lit my chest like menorah’s flame.
He looked at me and saw a well of grace —
I found only drought, a barren place.
That kiss — that kiss!
Not betrayal, but flint and longing.

He did not flinch but leaned in close,
And I, the one who touched His mouth,
Tasted the Word — and turned it to ash,
A gospel burned in passion’s decline.

[SAYS GOD]
Even fire must worship flame,
Even crows circle the Ark.
The spark is not treason —
It is consummation.

Would you blame Venus aflame for striking sun?
Or scorn the sword for what’s begun?

“I have chosen you twelve, yet one is a devil…”
—John 6:70

And what of those who fled the level?
Did they not sleep
While He wept blood beside them?
Did they not scatter?
Did they not doubt? 

Peter denied Him thrice —
Yet they crown him gold instead.
You led the soldiers — left in dust,
Yet you alone held iron trust.

You call it guilt.
I christian it gospel.

[SAYS JUDAS]
Thirty coins slipped through my hand —
Like teeth from death’s own ghastly brand.
They clanged on stones — a thunderous cry,
Silver born from Genesis’s sigh.

The priests recoiled, rejected this —
A weight of sin, a serpent’s hiss.

“He cast the pieces down and fled…”
—Matthew 27:5

[SAYS GOD]
Did He bleed lone upon the hill?
His crimson tears the cup did fill.
He wept because your name was known,
A kiss, a spark — together sewn.

You forget —
I bound you both to the same lambskin scroll.
Lamb and knife.
Altar and priest.

 Twin verses in a single psalm,
You and He.

[SAYS JUDAS]
The rope held me like a mother —
Soft, tight.
No court, no clamor,
Only the hillside watching
As my belly unwound like butter
Like Revelation’s scroll.

The others preached and built their shrines —
Peter, Paul, and sacred lines.
But not from me, no hymn nor prayer —
Only the Field keeps watchful care.

My death 

a sermon no one heard,

 My silence 

scripture without word.

[SAYS GOD]
Yes — and the sermon scorched.
Your entrails wrote the unwritten gospel.
Your bowels, a crimson canticle.
The apostles turned away —
But I read.
I listened as your wires snapped,
As your soul bloomed in the fig tree’s noose.

You shattered like the veil —
Not forsaken, Judas.
Fulfilled.

 It is finished.

[SAYS JUDAS]
Then why no mourning bells for me?
No stone, no name, no legacy?
Only a field — a scar, a scar,
A wound burned deep on Jerusalem’s palm.

Was I not chosen? Was I not
A lamb silent, given my lot?

[SAYS GOD]
You were not lost, but planted deep,
Where blood and earth together seep.
The Field of Blood blooms in your breath,
Resurrection roots in all of death.

Peter built on rock’s firm bed —
But you, Judas, seeded red.

[SAYS JUDAS]
Then let them speak: not traitor’s flame,
But cinder’s glow, a whispered name.
Let them say I was the spark,
The prophet burned, the flame in dark.

He fell so others might arise,
A shunned halo beneath dark skies.

[SAYS GOD]
And I will say it.
Not in thunder —
But in the silence between lightning.
In the breath between death
And the stone’s slow roll.

The Kingdom was lit ablaze
When you burned.