Helena's Lament
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You think you know the tale of old Lovers lost and death won naught Reunited in the reaper's claws A happily-ever-after, as every story aught To have Let me shed a little light Upon this fluffy tale dead The hope and love, Fate's joyful cry Is all a tale in your head- A beloved illusion, shattered by screams The bride, the corpse, she trailed a walk Along the stormy river's soul With every step, then, Sara shrieked Every step tearing a hole 'Twas so painful, she cried-and none heard. He died upon his bed that night My sister walked before him. A cloud hid the moon's eerie light And when it left, he did, but Nothing can compensate... I hope she goes on River Styx And to Elysian Fields I hope the Furies lash him, slash Until his cold soul yields For what he did I hope that dagger lies with him And that his wounds still sting I hope that in those onyx clouds Somewhere, seraphim sing To my dear Sara I hope, like her, that demon's doomed To walk the river alone I hope his wounds drain him like hers And that he falls, at last, on the stone! No-nothing could be enough! Mother, I write you from this cold cell to tell you this: I do not regret. I tell you, my heart is clear, though it still cries for his blood! I am glad I did it, for he would get no justice, no, not here where he grew up healthy and wealthy-and yearned for more. No amount of pain and suffering in this world could make him regret what he did enough-therefore, I sent him swiftly to his justice in the next. It was not only how horribly he rid himself of her, Mother, nor how he took her gold and jewelry, then left her for dead. I can imagine her screaming his name, our names, God's name, begging for help as she forced herself up and half-walked, then crawled, then fell upon the river-bank. I can see her pure, snow-white dress stained with her precious, innocent blood-ah, she was no saint, but she was so close. No, it is not only how he did it. It is the very fact that he DID. To have a beloved illusion shattered by dreams-'twas so painful, she cried-and none heard! Nothing can compensate for what he did to my dear Sara. No, nothing could be enough! I ask you not to forgive. There is aught to forgive. I ask you, please, understand. Your daughter, Helena

Submitted on 2009-04-02 21:11:24     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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