In Potter’s field the grasses grow.
The winds of time still blow and blow.
The Master’s friend—happened like this:
Betrayed the Son of Man—with kiss! A trusted friend—sold as a foe.
We breathe a sigh—so long ago.
The mob approached—by torchlight glow!
Could they have heard the serpent’s hiss In Potter’s Field? Eons have passed. We here below,
Who know the Lord, pray our faith glows—
Will we sell out, perform a kiss
And backslide down the dark abyss? We won’t forget—the past we know
In Potter’s Field.


*Aramaic, field of blood (ah cell-da-mah).

The writer has written sacred and secular verse for decades. He has been published in Prairie Messenger, Windhover, The Anglican Theological Review, Ancient Paths, The Christian Communicator, Time of Singing, The Christian Century, and others. He is a member of the Winston Salem Writers. He serves a life sentence, condemned to write verse. His Jesus Through A Poet’s Lens is now available via Kindle.