Tower Of Lost Girls
2018 08 06
Hard indifferent world seems to pull me down
flat on the growling grass that chews my brain,
worms of hunger contrived by the tree dancer
who always knows calculation of winter.
Clear blank of her face fills the sky with rain
smashing my soul down into ponds of thought
to reflect what features she wears today
of embodied ghost disguised by tree leaves.
Rolling over for bones of stone to stand,
and suck wind of storms to puff wordless tongue,
I lurch and wonder if I am now real
as cold rain that soaks thick mud of my skin.
Blurred by angry tears, trees and mountains melt
goops of muck that devour my beating heart
when I run across boundless field of fear
to rescue her from the man on the horse.
The white horse bearing the man vanishes,
hooves thumping bruised meadow of my heart,
so I stagger dazed since he whacked my head
with hard stick as he snatched her with rough hands.
What I know for sure, I shout at cold wind,
is we were walking on the river shore,
my wife and I, collecting eggs and nuts,
when the man whacked me and snatched her away.
Howling wind blows through my wide open mouth
to cry brute defiance against blank sky,
so I clear my eyes and follow hoofprints
toward the dark tower that glows on the high hill.
Lurking in shadows under tower of stone,
I wait till the tall man steps out in rain
then hurl jagged stone to fracture his skull,
but he staggers enraged, blood on his face.
Lumbering toward me, he slips on laughing mud
to fall flat on his back, so I grasp stone
and smash his face to splattered goops of blood,
then tumble dizzy into swirls of rain.
Wakened by beams of sunlight on my face,
I stand over his corpse, rotting in muck,
and laugh sudden shock of joy in my heart,
then snatch ring of keys from his leather belt.
Opening thick wood door of the dark tower,
I push into foul smell of shivering horror
to see twelve young girls huddled in the dark,
each one clutching young child to her thin breast.
Pulling the door open wide to sunlight,
I breathe fresh wind that blows through the dark tower,
then push open window slats to refresh
cold dark room with warm glow of bright sunrays.
Weeping with joy as they stumble outside,
imprisoned women dance in glowing light,
then hug me and kiss me with joyful thanks,
as they gather in circle to sing hymns.
Searching each face, I hope to find my wife,
but they point inside where I find her body
limp and lifeless as she lies sprawled on stone,
neck broken when she had fought to escape.
Forming circle around me as I weep,
twelve women touch my head with gentle hands,
and decide they will bear children of love
with my seed to regenerate my soul.
I cast fire in the stone hearth of the dark tower,
then one by one each young woman steps forth
to lay her baby, born from the kidnapper,
on the hearth to burn it in the hot flames.
After they roast twelve children of the rapist,
we clean the tower and build new furniture,
cultivate worts and herbs in the large garden,
then gather food to survive the long winter.
Sitting together in the tower of light,
the twelve young women and I cook good food,
sing hymns of joy, then make love on fur rug,
till every woman swells large with my child.
While snow flakes swirl around our haven tower,
I ride out to survey the countryside,
and see young man and woman trudging slow,
huddled together against freezing wind.
Tossing him rope, I guide them to the tower
where we invite them into our warm home,
so they sit by the hearth of glowing flames
to eat warm soup as my twelve brides sing hymns.
#Poem #Poetry #ArtOfPoetry #HistoricalFiction #AmWriting #DailyPoem #Heroism #Revenge #Heaven #DarkTower #LostGirls