Time for another poem. I originally wrote this as a song during my time at music college, having been inspired by the song 'Samson' by Regina Spektor*. But I liked the lyrics too much I had to convert it into a poem. So a poem about the downfall of a woman who (to nick words off Wordsworth) was as "strong as guilty fear". As always, do feel free to share and let me know your thoughts.
Boadicea came into my quarters from the cold
Took off her battle robes and her brooch of soiled gold,
Rinsed off the crimson stains from the blade of her knife
Then flung herself into my arms as she cried all through the night.
Her teardrops couldn't kill the fire in her eyes.
Each drip crawled down her skin, so blemished and so dry.
She scratched at every wound and buried battle scar
Until we were silent, staring up unto the stars.
But as I wet my lips to blow out the flame
She sealed my mouth and whispered my name.
She went on to tell me how the empire will fall,
How the togas will soon crumble within her kingdom walls.
How every man will no longer call the heavens their home
And stop begging for their names to be engraved in stone.
She said, "Come, be my magic and the power in my hands -
Tell me there's life left in this promised land!"
And just as the moon went out of our sight,
She fell onto the floor and howled with all her might:
"To all the Gods of what's good and right
Don't you dare turn out my lights!"
But some sunsets later she stumbled back in
Looking ragged, holding unknown medicines.
She'd lost her strength, seen her comrades die
But my arms and magic were sharply denied:
"I won't live to watch my men suffer as they bleed
A short and sweet release is my final plead -
So let me free now.”
And she turned out her lights
As we cried.
* If you haven't heard this song, do give it a listen - it is rather good.
So you're here
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