Beneath the Willow
Green darkness enfolds me in its deep caress
singing
sinking
dreaming
dying
to catch golden glimmers of liquid light
streaming
shining
dancing
drowning
in the masses of flowers and tendrils
playing about my face and hair
Alone, I float, mermaid-like
in the calm, flowing waters
Here at least I no longer need to see clearly
the faces of the ones who ruined me
Two thrusts of a rapier and my love was dead -
one through my father, one through my heart
Why does the death of the dragon make the hero
when my rescue from worse monsters does not crown my love?
Is’t not a nobler deed?
But no -
better to go quietly down and see no more
pretend not to understand, hide from truth
I would be condemned by all if I said -
Do I dare? I have not much longer -
He cannot reach me here -
Yes. . .
I loved the prince best
He released me and in death I release him
from madness and oppression
from our fathers we are free
Pray you, love, remember
And. . .
whenever tragedy manifest itself
and comfort is needed
hope in the knowledge that worse has passed
think not on Romeo and Juliet
but of Ophelia and her (once) Hamlet. . .
April 28, 2001