February 20, 2013

perhaps some spindly Baroque music will be heard...

'Lucretia and Tarquin' by Simon Vouet 1620

the ghost of Lucretia of Rome

in the night sky
her husband remembered
how she sat spinning
the piled wool fibers into thread
spooling it to be dyed
looming a waiting
weaving a sated memory
versus expectations of his arrival

he remembered how
her maidens went about
warming the bath
when they knew the Moon
would soon come rise
birthing light through
the window and
with enough candles lit
they knew Lucretia
would sit and
smile to reflect
what her eyes
couldn’t see
on the other side
of the courtyard wall

her husband
they also knew
would go off to fight
for her honor
after she was besieged
by rape and the blighted lust
that corruption of power brings

everyone knew trust and
virtue weren’t things
this new Rome
would be born with
they were only the prayers
the stars heard
as a night sky depends on
wrapping dead light around
every journey home
  
everyone knows
her countenance comes
under the light of the Moon
they whisper her name
all one must do
they say
is find water
bend your hand
beneath its skin and
guide what is still living
to love inside you

here is where
you might hear her
past courtyard yearns
hers, is a free soul now
burning her body’s fall
etched in echoes
of heartbeats and
last gasps of breath

so, even today
when the Moon rises
all of the new Romes
go past prayers
to where death
waits to ride
our dreams of living
inside the homes
of new Republics
without walls
without calls
to arm what
the whispers
behind them
must know
is to die

EJR ©

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