Marie Christine Of Gascony

Marie Christine Of Gascony
© Surazeus
2018 12 28

Ten billion faceless people wander lost
in wordless waste land of blank history books,
people who died in prisons or from wars,
bodies and minds destroyed by grief and fear.

Marie Christine de Pardaillan de Gondrin
wanders forlorn in Chateau de Bonnefont,
ignoring ghost of her mother Athenais
who dances in Versailles with the Sun King.

Mist sparkles over hills of Gascony
where Marie runs alone among quince trees
and kneels weeping by small indifferent stream
that captures sunlight in her falling tears.

Reaching pale hand among the fluttering leaves,
Marie plucks golden quince from tree of sorrow
and eats sweet juice of the Kydonian Apple,
then tosses core in grass where serpents glide.

When silent serpent bites her fragile heel,
Marie Christine shrieks like Eurydice,
then wanders singing to the Underworld
where her tears fill pool of the flying horse.

Where is Orpheus plucking lyre of Hermes,
who chants spells of love flowing from his heart
that would guide Marie Christine back to life
where her body rots among old quince trees?

I wander lost in hills of ancient history,
searching along shores of indifferent streams
to find Marie Christine of Gascony,
who dances laughing among fresh quince trees.

From whisper of her voice among quince trees,
that shimmers in sunlight on flowing streams,
I translate lonely sorrow of her heart
into songs mothers sing to their dead children.