Judas Speaks Poem by Job Ombati

It wasn't in my intray my Lord to betray.
Only did inclinations of the heart.
In darkest cranny of heart didst they contrived.
As base as they could.
Contrite of heart I am.
Though late as I am.

I loved him.
He did me too.
i...loved him
He did me too.
I dipped my bread in his cup.
And my hand too in the chest.
He never smacked it.

The poor were at the very nerve of my heart!
-loved them I.
But to you, naked was my heart's inquities.
My inquity a glassy sea.
Why waste such pure nard?
the woman with the costly alabastron oil;
pure nard.
300 denari- a whole year's sweat!

The poor, you will always have.
Obsquious were my intentions.
An open book to you.

Caught my hand in the cookie jar.
and frecks of cookie at tip of my mouth.
But pure of heart, he never smacked it.

What a heavy stone tied onto my heart.
Thirty pieces of silver so misery!
What a pity!
What a sadness!
Thirty pieces for an innocent soul!

I loved him.

The misery pieces I'll throw.

Poems for Humanity