This poem, written in the early 1980s, uses the suggested imagery of T S Eliot that
hell is being alone with your self
There you are,
Languishing in torturous hell!
Meanwhile, on earth,
On a tree swings your empty shell!
Your name, whenever heard
By righteous children, is hissed at;
An act of which
Your evanescent, effervescent joy becomes flat.
No one sings your praises,
You are the villain of the piece.
You are now entrapped
In a place without release.
You could have become a hero,
The example of loyalty:
But you decided
To imprison the One who sets men free.
So much could have been yours,
A chance to partake in a mission;
But you decided
That you were not to further that vision.
At a bargain, you sold your soul
And a life for the price of a slave,
So now you wish
That everyone could live in their own cave.
The Jews were joyous
And the Gentiles could not care less
But, as a result
Of your action, your life was in a mess.
Greed for money,
Desire for publicity or utter remorse –
All you wish is
That you were not controlled by such a force.
But you acted
As you did and now you must
Face the consequences
In this place of darkness and dust.
You could have
Gone to heaven with your friends,
But you failed
The only disciple not to make it in the end.
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