One Wife's Laments.

One Wife's Lament.

Empty, crushed, alone 

this dirge I wail

of wedded vows rent 

asunder by a hammer's fall.

What was lead-ached 

in his chest, 

now brings lead-aches 

to my penciled woes,

of my own severing 

I can attest, 

from the sweet dreams 

pursed in my soul,

of a true love I would cherish

since I was just a wee lass.

now gone forevermore

My hope chest beaten 

with bare fists

my breasts plated 

in bitter herbs,

exiled to the 
isle of widowhood,

from when last my love 

left his most cherished 

embarking over desert sands.

Bound to the king's guard

in pursuit of the oiled palms

of wealthy lords blood-lust,

killing barbarians for black gold,

under pretenses 

of massive catapults.

Wizards weaving 

weapons of mayhem

that would set my 

beloveds homeland at risk,

forked tongues in castle walls

instigating unnecessary battle. 

Secret schemes 

becoming endless screams,

in the cradle of 

Babylon.... rocked,

and so he bid me 

wait as he set off

to slay the fictional 

dragons others raised.

Without any proper armor, 

rushed to fight

in chariots rendered coffins 

by strength's lack,

flag draped and wheel-less, 

ruined he returned

in the belly of a 

winged sarcophagus

his dissembled heart 

penned deeply in a plot,

that wrote not of 

our once forever love.

The stench of death dissolved 

the bonds we pledged,

I'm wed to a stone cross, 

and flower beds,

Golgotha times ten 

thousand crosses raised,

near one that breaks

 my heart at Arlington.

They bade him dwell in 

earth's cave where he'll sleep,

amidst hiber-nations 

of young men entombed,

while I at daybreak 

wander, bringing wreaths

of poppy's much like 

he might have been known,

by our tiny sired flesh, 

their poppy gone.

Before the seed was sown, 

now fallow fields,

embrace his flesh, 

held tight by mother earth,

while far above his 

one love weeps his loss, 

while other sobs are heard 

on distant slopes.

One wonders that 

the tears in gallons shed,

would not have bloomed 

an endless daisy field,

of petals left un-plucked 

by those who rot,

who whisper once I loved, 

but love is naught,

it lies slain in the 

last battle they fought.

During useless war 

that callous leaders sought.

six feet above the 

somber widows wring

their empty hands and 

hearts then stagger home,

and leave behind their 

dreams reduced to bone.

Awarded only 

personal effects

with useless medals 

and a folded flag

with all I wanted

in a body bag

as bagpipes fade across

the hills above

wailing thier 

long sad notes 

for my lost love