Could she have known, this daughter of kings, that her husband's life, his death, could have changed the world so drastically?
Dreamed, perhaps…but those were but dreams. And who knew better that dreams are for naught but the fools?
Fool, perhaps, they were both as they dreamed of one day retaking Judea. She remembered cold mornings she spent with him, curled in the low bed, blankets and skin in place of a fire. Their wild plans so plausible, it seemed…theirs was a royal lineage. The throne was their destiny…he was to be King of the Jews.
She would have been his Queen.
They won't believe her now, not the Blessed Lady…he was more accurate than it seemed, perhaps, in calling them sheep. They won't believe her story, though she strains to be heard, shooting truth in vials as Eros shot his passion arrows, using his own bow; for are they not kin, the twin roses?
Alas, but they turn deaf ears to her. They prefer to believe the papal mistruths, to let her fall into her stained destiny. A queen, she was painted a whore with the rouge of the geishas, and clumsily…but it's been so long, and so many believe, that of course, of course it is true. Her good name gone, her name still lingers…in the corners of their eyes, the example of his mercy, the nickname of the hookers who smear themselves with makeup and sell themselves on city streets. Her lineage erased…she flits as ghosts, pounding on their walls, screaming silently like scars on skinny wrists, let me in!
But they do not listen.
And as their world strips itself, it calls it "growth." As they stress worship of the Father in Heaven, they ravage their Mother on Earth. As their population booms, they call intercourse "wicked"…will they soon be burning still more of her sisters on stakes? Can she afford to shed that many more tears?
They do not listen…they are too indoctrinated. They are a world full of liars, and they cannot stand the truth. Balance, they say, is inconsequential…as they move further and further towards their own doom. Will they not listen to her now?
As a ship off course, they are thrown out into chaos, but they refuse to check their maps, for the compass rose, they say, is a liar. Bear right, bear right…it is all they can stand, and their ship goes in circles, they have created their own whirlpool, and are sucked further and further in as they refuse to change their ways.
Eventually, they will die, and their religion with them. The rose could have saved them; but it has long since withered and died.
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a/n: I had a basic premise for this, and then freewrote from there. I like writing from different views, and I like hearing them, too…any thoughts?