Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Cassandra

With barbs through my swollen lips,
I told huge lies
about an angel.

With a cracked skull, I said every wicked thought I had,
to the wind,
to the wind.

The angel warned every neighbor and cousin about my evil.
She wept,
and swept her reptile tail discreetly out of sight.

I ran, such an ugly girl that the sun turned away,
and the clouds
abandoned white for shroudy gray.

No one believed anything I said--
not the stupid, swaying trees,
not the flimsy hollow-boned birds,
not the thin air I spread my screams into.

No one, until I found her in the crack-glassed mirror,
spit on by Apollo,
disregarded and accurate--

Cassandra.
_____

for Ella 

20 comments:

Marian said...

She seems to continue shouting into the wind even today.

Blogoratti said...

This piece casts a spell, marvelous writing indeed.

thotpurge said...

An extraordinary story...beautifully written.

Sioux said...

The tiniest bit of rhyme, the bit of repetition, along with the gorgeous images...

Wow (as usual, said with eyes green with envy).

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

A very immediate, and pognant, telling of her story

hedgewitch said...

Angels are no more to be trusted than demons, it seems, if there is indeed any difference, as a demon is only an angel in a different costume. Or our own lips, which sometimes we only think we control. The title figure is a potent one--doubly cursed with the true sight of prophecy, and to never have her prophecies believed. That is one of the things the petty gods do, apparently just because they can. Fine writing, Shay.

brudberg said...

The wind and angels are a-slandering wicked.. not really to be trusted.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Mythology remains relevant when we can recognize the human condition in the tales, ageless, transcending culture and creed. That's what I felt when I read your poem.

paper sea said...

I love reading this as if the speaker herself is the angel she's telling lies/truths about. It's such a fine line, sometimes. And the only one who believed her, befriended her (and also hated her the most), was herself.

It's almost like she's shouting from the mountaintops the worst things she can come up with about herself, and no one really believes she as evil as she says she is. Maybe she's really just severely broken inside and acts like a psycho to protect herself ... to keep everyone away from her.

If I were the speaker, though, I would change "spit" to "spat." It would sound superb following so closely after "crack-glassed" and preceding the nearby "accurate."

By the way, I immediately thought of Helen of Troy when I read your title.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I can sense her desperate pain as she shouts into the wind. Sad she felt so ugly the sun turned away. Only you can come up with brilliant phrases like "hollow-boned birds" and "crack-glassed mirror."

Ella said...

Bravo, for the bravery~ I love the reference to Apollo, reptile tail and cracked glass. I could sense sugar coated brittle candy being cracked can cutting those who aren't aware. I felt the ice of fractured souls. The mental disconnect creates an alien-like creature that appears normal-oh, so normal, until the mask is discovered. A perfect Halloween poem-if you ask me.

Thank-you, Shay~
@>--------

Gillena Cox said...

i like mythology, i like a good story told to me, the dubious persona is intriguing. A well crafted write.

Have a nice Tuesday

much love...

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Great imagery, and thankfully, swift action. I know how she feels. la la mosk

Cloudia said...

Oh Wow! You are in a blessed streak!




ALOHA, Friend
ComfortSpiral

(\__/)
(='.'=)
(")_('')

Mama Zen said...

Wow. This is so good, Shay. And, you've always been brave, I think.

Merlin said...

If I were opt to speak something meaningful, just to be turned away time and again, I would feel that my words weren't worth those people's time. Sometimes we just play the hand we are dealt, and see where it shall bring us.

georgeplaceblog said...

"No one believed anything I said--
not the stupid, swaying trees,
not the flimsy hollow-boned birds,
not the thin air I spread my screams into."

I LOVE that

Helen said...

This brought back vivid memories ~~ of me shouting/screaming in the middle of nowhere, to no one in particular ~~ "why, why, why is this happening to my sweet mother" .. I shouted it often during the years I cared for her. Thank you for writing this. ~ One down :) ~

Jennifer Wagner said...

Your poem condenses the tale and heightens it in a way that makes her bitter experience palpable. Being disregarded is maddening!

Ileana said...

That crack-glassed mirror lines is classic Shay. Love this one, chica!