People like Judas

(a poem including a line by Neil Gaiman)
“One of you will betray me,” Messiah said.
He’s right. Books were safer than other people anyway.
Sometimes, it’s what Judas did to his master
that makes me wallow in solitude instead of walking
a lonely bridge with a friend on nights.
Lately, I’ve stopped thinking about extreme grief
stemming from the plant men stalked into me.
Truth be told, I trimmed myself not to grow as thorns.
A brother betrays his tribe and I watch you sigh.
I, too, grow weary when anyone wash his fear in the stream
that passes through every pores in my body.
Often, I imagine the look on the Messiah’s face
after the third cock crow, the sadness that enclose
his heart like clouds on God. Perhaps, I should
speak less about the ancient betrayal accounts.
Recently, a murders his mother and seals his father’s lips
with a coin. A father lullaby his little daughter to sleep
and lit her into a country. See, it’s not bad to reiterate
the truth once told: betrayal begins with what looks like love.
Forgive me if you say you love and I do not respond.

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