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What i do

I walk on the dirt paths, under the willow trees.
The courtyard, dark with only one source of light,
that emanated from a majestic fountain.

I walk past these trees and wonder If they
have seen the darker ways of the mortal world,
to know if that is why they weep.

Sometimes I listen to the wind,
the small voices that carry past my ears
as the wind whips through my hair.

Sometimes I listen to the world around me:
A fountain bubble, the wind as it sways past the tree limbs.
I listen to the to my children laugh, as they play.
My son J’aidan whose five, yells “ You Can’t Catch me!”,
but my daughter Thana whose two, doesn’t give up.
She yells “Yes, I can” but when she falls…

I calm; I kiss: I hug her. It will be alright, I tell her.
Her big crystal blue eyes look up at me,
Though her eyes are red and puffy and stricken with tears,
She still looks at me with such wonder.
J’aidan comes to us with an apology,
and I tell him, that she is still little.
But I set her down, and they are off again.

I sing; I open the gate as I sing, my children close behind me.
We venture into the forest. J’aidan wanting so badly to lead,
to explore, but Thana clings to me in fear.
I tell her it’s alright. I comfort her.

I pay attention to the way the animals move,
watching for the chance of danger,
that an enemy may be close.

I collect herbs from the forest floor to make medicine.
I cut the stems making sure to leave the roots,
so that they may grow back next year.
I trim, St. john’s wort, thyme, lavender, sage, and
even marigolds for remedies.

I notice my children playing and I feel happy to see them this way.
Our home may seem to be a happy one
but life outside our gates are full of misery and despair.
Wars are brewing and It seems our own destruction is inevitable.
As if we have angered the Gods so much that their wrath is upon us.
That lightning may as well fall from the sky.
As though the oceans could rise up and swallow us whole,
taking everyone into the depths of hell for our sins.
The darks of the world that I hope my children never have to see.

So although I’ve forgotten the faces of my loved ones,
of when the doom of our world began...
I remember them sometimes in my night terrors.
I watch their faces looking toward me and saying I’m sorry
as they die in front of me. I was a small child then.

I pick up the trimmings in my skirt and realized
there is no longer the sound of laughter.
I drop everything and rush to find my children.

Protector, when my children are in danger.
Fighter, when there’s no other choice.
Destroyer, when there’s no time left.
Survivor, when it’s over

I watch my children as they cower in fear.
before them a beast, a lion looking creature with horns
stood on his back hunches and roared
his black fur shaggy as it swayed.
My husband, Constantine ran from the brush
and stabbed the creature in its back.
The creature threw him into the trees.
My husband fell to the ground and
I was alone to protect my children

I listen to myself..telling myself to gather my children and run.
I am scared but I do not let it show.
when I am almost to my children the beast whips me back into the brush.
I get up again and run for my husbands claymore.
Picking it up to cut down the beast before he can harm my children.
When it’s over, I gather my children and we go to my husband.
He is alive still, and I count my blessings.
I help him back to our home.

Secrets are part of it too.
I bandage my wounds.
I take care of my family,
I don’t show weakness.
My husband lies in bed and irritation covers his face
“ I don’ like layin’ in bed all day.” he tells me but that’s just like him
I tell him he needs to recover.
He has no idea that I was wounded too

I see that he’s worried about me,
about our family and our home.
when he’s well, he’s off again to hunt for these beasts.

I watch as he leaves and my children are sad to see him go

I come back to the courtyard at dawn
where there is blackness and only one source of light,
that emanated from a majestic fountain.

Needing to pile up the loneliness,
I walk through the courtyard,
the willows blowing in the breeze.
And I wonder if this horror will ever be over.