Medea argues with her conscience.
Why do you hound me with your constant whining,
bemoaning the tearing of your heart from its roots,
spewing your blood from your blasphemous lips
that speak only of the horror of our conjoined deeds,
vile murder of the king of Corinth and cursèd Creusa
that stole our husband Jason who I rescued once
and many times? ‘Twas I, not you, who dared the words
that withheld the rule of heaven from those moments
that altered mortal lives and preserved the doomed
of gods. I alone, proud and unvanquished, that stood
and took the vengeance earned by such betrayal
by the man who fathered our sons and daughters,
only I who wiped away the dirt and filth from our name,
the offspring that carried his blood that must be expunged.
It was you that split yourself from me, unwilling
to glory in the recompense of our revenge, the death
of all he cared for. And now you mourn for what is gone,
the end of innocence you’d drape about my neck,
but I’ll not have it, remorse is yours and not my part,
your eternal weeping merely drives me on
to grasp my eternal destiny, Queen of Athens
and sorceress of irresistible power. But soft,
will you stay with me to enjoy the fruits of our apotheosis?
I loved him and he is gone forever.
Line Count: 24
For Dark Dreamscapes Poetry Contest, October 2020 Week 4
Prompt: As per illustration.