THE SECRETS OF DIDYMUS

“Does he know?”
I’ve asked myself a hundred times
if my Master can truly see passed my lying eyes
of muttered laments and stabbing stress.

I know the answer far too well
from all his piercing and revealing words
spoken while we have traveled along the dirt roads
between his sermons and miracles.

Can I hide that painful rendezvous in stolen seconds
when I snuck off earlier to meet my family
and we exchanged the bittersweet comments
questioning my sanity over following the son of a carpenter?

In this room's stale air
where the blend of sweat and roasted lamb
suffocates my nostrils
it is this tension that I feel ache my soul.

Next to me, Matthew exchanges grim glances
with Simon the Zealot again.
The former tax collector and the fanatic
using their eyes to vent words better not said.

And then there is Peter
who tries to rule, but retreats on so many occasions
as a tempest rock of uncertainty.

To the Master’s right is John
who clings to him for attention and love,
but we've all seen him
during less spiritual moments
when his darker, thunderous side is exposed
and like his brother his temper explodes.

The surrealism of this Passover lies in my gut like a stone
as I recall how our Master washed our feet,
but it couldn’t cleanse our moods.

Now he says one of us will play traitor
causing my spirit to sag with guilt,
while I hide my panic and wonder,
“Does he know?”