in the potter's field

judas, betrayal, Jesus, regret

i am sitting in the potter’s field
awaiting the price of blood,
i have been sitting oh so long 
between the bracken and the shrubs.

so quiet, ever still,
though the earth quakes beneath
and i have been thinking angry thoughts
dwelling on bitter things.

gnawing, always gnawing, 
on the inside and the out
my teeth gnash with a thousand thoughts
i wish i could do without.

running fingers over clumps of dirt
they shatter in my grasp,
i remember the breaking bread
and the wine i once was promised.

my hands press down, press down,
pressing into the softened earth,
i know my voice sleeps trapped beneath
the layers of rocks and dirt.

friends i once called strangers
compatriots of bitter war;
i think of flowing tears
and the fragrance of the whore;

all gone, all abandoned,
in the kingdom of myself,
do the mountains ever move here?
as i press my hands toward hell.

quiet now, thin coin bag, 
my pocket full of holes,
i retuned you to your grave
i gave you back—leave me alone!

leave me, just leave it,
can’t you just leave me on my own?
i’ve never been so scared,
so unsacred, so enstoned.

leave it, now my spirit,
i remember my mother’s words,
i remember my father’s eyes;
oh, the blessing and the curse.

i remember the beloved in water
the sky rent wide as wheat
yet here i sit ‘mongst the graves
broken, defiled, and weak.

i kissed him, oh, i kissed him,
i kissed him like a whore,
now i sit waiting,
thinking of the blood i have abhorred,
and the blood i still ignore,
ever still, ever soft, quaking beneath this earth,
oh, i do remember, the blessing and the curse.