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William Everett

Not even Judas




Hidden on the mountainsides of Appalachia

lives beneath majestic canopies

a tree they call the Judas tree.

Its purple buds begin the spring

break through the bark betrayed by winter’s silver hands.

And as the sun burns higher in the sky

the leaves

turned green

turned red

like hearts

begin to tremble, shake, and beat.

Humbled underneath the shade of oak and ash it greets

the seal of Solomon

the trillium

the ginseng with its fabled powers.

Beside it bows the dogwood

bright bracts cut short by blood-brown marks,

its body twisted with a gnarled grace.

The redbud

legacy of our betrayal

brings forth the rosy lips of spring.

The dogwood

emblem of God’s suffering

whispers in the wakening gloom

not even Judas lies beyond the love of God.

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