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By K.P.M.

What happens when guilt makes a person believe that forgiveness is no longer possible?

In Judas Mirror, K.P.M. explores sin, guilt, judgment and God’s mercy through an unusual encounter. A troubled young man arrives at a chapel carrying the weight of his mistakes. However, he feels too ashamed to enter. Instead, he sits alone outside and looks towards the cross.

Soon, a mysterious stranger joins him. At first, the man does not know who the stranger is. Then he notices a silver coin and discovers that he is sitting beside Judas Iscariot.

The discovery fills him with anger. He immediately condemns Judas for betraying Jesus Christ. However, Judas challenges him to examine his own failures before judging another person’s sin. Their conversation gradually turns into a mirror. Through Judas, the speaker begins to confront his own shame and his belief that he is beyond forgiveness.

Ultimately, Judas Mirror becomes a reflection on repentance. It contrasts Judas’s despair with Peter’s decision to return after his own failure. Most importantly, the poem asks whether our greatest mistake is falling into sin—or believing that we can no longer return to mercy after we fall.

A heavy cloak of sin I wore,
my mind in endless fight.

My feet, they wandered, aimless bound,
into the fading light.

The stain was deep, a visceral scar,
a torment hard to bear.

I couldn’t face the sacred ground
of the chapel standing there.

Too filthy, too vile, in my own eyes
to cross that hallowed gate,

so on a lonely bench I sat
and resigned myself to my cruel fate.

The setting sun, in bloody hues,
across the heavens spread.

I stared at the cross on the chapel
with a growing sense of dread.

Then, as I watched, another came
in a hood, black and strange.

His face was grim, a replica
of my own inner change.

He sat and sighed, a heavy sound
that echoed in the air,

a silent bond of agony
that we were forced to share.

He turned to me, and as he did,
his features were revealed.

And in that strange and circular hood,
a secret lay concealed.

Cracked lips, they parted
and asked for my name.

I responded, then, in curiosity,
asked him to do the same.

“Oh, you know of me,
and you’ve heard of me.

Aside from His own Holy will,
I’m the reason He’s up so high.”

I couldn’t comprehend his words,
my mind in a twist.

What could he mean?

What ancient tale did this stranger have,
shrouded in mist?

He toyed with something in his hand.

It glistened in the light.

A single silver coin it was,
so ancient, shining and bright.

Then the realisation struck.

Fear and anger boiled up
and made me jerk.

It was like a cruel joke
the devil had written.

Then the words came out…

“You’re Judas!

Judas Iscariot!

Man of Kerioth,
dagger bearer,
betrayer of our Lord!

How could you show yourself
and stand in His accord?

How could you trade
the Prince of Peace
for metal upon the floor?

Did you not see His infinite grace
and still demand for more?

You walked upon the quiet dust
beside the Prince of Grace.

You watched the dead leap up alive,
restored before His face!

You broke the sacred bread with Him
and heard His whisper rise.

You saw the stormy waters sleep
beneath His sovereign eyes!

You shared His joy,
you wept His tears,
you knelt when He would pray,

and yet you priced the Son of Man
and threw His love away?”

“YOU DON’T GET THE RIGHT TO JUDGE!”

“I LOVED HIM!

I loved Him so much
that my heart was torn!

I loved Yeshua more than life,
a love that was newly born.

You choose to forget
I was a disciple too, you see.

My greatest wish was for His ministry
to reach every land and sea.

To see the Son of David rise
to glory and to power.

Even the others,
they alienated me
at every passing hour.

I was the only one, you know,
not from Galilee’s green land.

But I couldn’t care less.

For Him, I stood,
a loyal, working hand.

You think it was for greedy gain,
a price tag on the Prince?

Well, what about you
who does it for free
and hasn’t faltered since?

I had a greed for money, yes,
a burden I did bear.

But even without all that,
I wanted the Messiah
to be my Marshal there.

Through Torah I had heard
of the One who would
Roman power usurp,

who’d trample forces of oppression
with a mighty, noble stir.

I knew that my Messiah
was preparing His great Kingdom’s reign,

and I wanted my own role, you see,
to help erase the pain.

In that moment, Lucifer’s fingers
dug into my heart.

I thought,

“If I can’t take Him to the Romans,
I could bring the Romans to Him,

and the revolution would start.”

Then His power would be revealed,
the One who’d free us all.

But in reality, I ignored the God
who hears the heart’s true call.

Ironically, my bitter crime
paved ground for grace to bloom.

Yet I, who sparked your pardon,
chose my own dark, tragic doom.

My treachery was prophesied—
not to excuse my place,

but to expose how easily
you trade away His grace.

For while I sought a worldly realm,
you sell Him for your flesh,

ensnared by petty, earthly lusts,
trapped in the devil’s mesh.

A fool, I thought my monstrous sin
outmeasured Heaven’s heart.

Unable, while He walked this earth,
to see His divine part.

Do not yield to the evil one.

But if you stumble and fall…

Oh, learn from Peter!

Rise in haste
and answer Mercy’s call!

Turn back to Him in humbleness.

Don’t let your spirit die…

Perhaps if I had run to Him,
a true light I’d wear on high.”

A gentle shake then broke the spell.

The guard woke me at last.

The setting sun still burned the sky.

Mere minutes had just passed.

I turned my eyes beside the bench
where he had wept his pain.

No figure sat,

yet on the wood…

a silver coin remained.

A single ancient shekel gleamed
beneath the dying day,

a reminder that we sinners judge,
though all have lost the way.

It is not our place to cast the stone
nor measure another’s price.

We only differ in our shame
and how we yield to vice.

I rose and walked into the church
where quiet shadows fell,

to kneel before the priest
and let confession break the spell.

Who would have thought
the darkest soul,

the traitor lost to night,

would be the saint without a crown
to guide me to the Light?

— K.P.M.

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