Trojan Sorrow

She knelt naked on a jagged stone,

a cool, crystal stream nearby whispered "drink"

but to its call she was deaf.


Olive and fig trees offered her their fruit,

soft grasses a peaceful bed

but to those danglings, she was blind.


Her once pale skin, burnt red

and cracked from an Agammemnon sun.


She had no reason to resist her fate,

not even the flies that devoured her,

spawning generations in dried blood.


Once brimming urn, now parched and dry

empty of tears, screams silenced, devastated soul.


Her hopes and dreams lie

shattered, scattered, splattered

on the cruel stones by the walls of Troy.

The End

4 comments about this poem Feed