Iconic Image 3 (Poem )

I was one of twelve
sitting in the upper room,
secretly seething because I was not the chosen.
Jealousy prepped my narcissistic ego,
bombarded my consciousness and reason
unaware that the penalty of betrayal is death.

We drank and supped
of His body and blood,
A sacrament of high holiness.
As He focused on the depth
of my treachery.

The chief priests and scribes
placed a bounty on His head,
declaring Him PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE -
Wanted dead or alive for crimes: false claims,
corrupting scripture, proclaiming Godhead
and violating the demeanor of the synagogue
and established dogma.
The lure of silver salavied my senses;
and I snitched Him out with a kiss,
to high authority with infallible mien,
who washed their hands of Him.
And my ill-found wealth became my curse.