Zywa

Zywa Girl's dreams put down

With my sisters I imitated
mama and her friends
By paying attention to everything

from eyebrow to footstep
every muscle under his cloak
the menu and our clothes

we let Dad, who is king
do his important job

     For so long I'm living
     without friends, without child
     I'm not smoothing out sheets

     for my Achilles, the sensitive
     hero, his divine body
     On our wedding day

     the priest didn't sprinkle holy
     water on me, he besmirched me

          with glue from the golden vessel -
          a foul mix of blood, wine
          honey, and nobody dared

          to look - under the offering table
          next to the raging fire of the funeral
          pyre he kicked me: keep quiet!

          His knife shone, I saw him pull
          at the doe that took my place

Oh, what woman didn't and doesn't
suffer from beautiful girls' dreams
put down by sneaky plans

from which she has escaped half at the utmost?

Poem 901
Amsterdam, 2016-12-18
After: Iphigeneia
Collection: Bruises
Keyword: Religion: promise
Tribute to: Euripides

Zywa The siege

Just let them reason, get their right
in words as if we are talking
about the same, yes just let them

shoot, the State will not give in
to violence, blood does not write
evidence, only facts

reveal truth:
foreigners and relatives besiege
us, they yell threats

and demands, forsake peace
But we have everything to lose
we have victory or heaven

and they will be forgotten
not even mocked for their foolishness
of coming to kill us in their delusion

to be happy afterwards. Like cadavers

after slaughter, they will lie in the field
eaten by hyenas, jackals, rats

and worms from the underworld
Children will play with the bones

Poem 897
Amsterdam, 2016-12-16
600 BCE - "Seven against Thebes" (Aeschylus, 467 BCE), "Phoenician Women" (Euripides, 410 BCE)
1566-1648 Eighty Year's War
2015-2017 ar-Raqqa
Ukraine
Collection: PumicePieces
Keywords: War: resistance, Ukraine
Tribute to: Euripides; Aischylos

Zywa Not a guest like a slave

I'm back, on my guard
in the streets of my youth
and the crying embrace

of amma and my sisters
on the banks where I've played
I won't leave here again

even if I have to fight for it
It is not in my hand
to die or to kill

No longer can I be an exile
a polite guest conforming
like a slave

I'm back, on my guard
in my own house, and you, brother
the oldest, you must be wiser

No king
can crown himself
at most he can be a servant

Poem 896
Amsterdam, 2016-12-16
600 BCE
"Seven against Thebes" (Aeschylus, 467 BCE)
"Phoenician Women" (Euripides, 410 BCE)
1200 BCE
"Mahabharata" ("The Great World")
Collection: PumicePieces
Keyword: Freedom: equality
Tribute to: Euripides; Aischylos

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