Old stuff

January 21, 2012

This is about a girl who was raped, many centuries ago.  I wrote the poem about ten years ago.




The priestesses knew what came

After, fragment memories of

His face turned skyward, your face

Smudged, a sudden sound calling,



They knew where to hide you,

When to leave, when to work you

In their fields, when he would



Like a child led, unknowing

What there was to know

Beyond the next foothold

To the hilltop you came



He knew what they had done

Even before you saw him, only

His back this time, flying

Down the mountain, his voice

Calling in vain as he sought after

His son.




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