Burkowski’s Widow

My Prince has slipped!
And his face has turned
To Shadow

His tongue no longer strong
But grey (how said!)
It used to be so full
Of Spit & Roses

My Prince the stars have
Fallen from your crown
And I cannot fathom
Their fading-
Some things should be forever!

You’ve taken your will
And your seaward gaze-

You’ve taken your will
And your weakness & left

Me with nothing but
Words to keep me warm
But I don’t want them!
Take them back!

I want Paris
I want you drunk on wine
I want to walk with you
And hold you up
And giggle
And kiss
--
Each day I sit by the garden listening to the sweet song of the lark and cricket’s duet as I pick petal after delicate petal off each fragile rose. With each red petal that floats to the ground, my heart cringes and weeps at the thought of your absence, fighting in the war against our enemy. Each time the beats of foreign hooves drum above the music of nature, my attention perks up and I crane my neck to watch the beaten path, praying that it is a messenger bearing word from you or, pray God, be you returning safe and sound!
But each time I am sorely disappointed for ‘tis only a messenger bringing news of the war, our perpetual defeat and of course, the impending danger to our kingdom. But I believe, my Prince that you will one day be victorious and this danger will no longer exist. I can do naught but pray each night for your safety and rule our kingdom in the time of your absence.
Alas dire news arrives; a messenger arrives and jumps off his horse, rushing to my daily vigil at the rose garden.
“My Lady!” he exclaims, bowing to me.
Standing quickly, the multitude of rose petals fall from my lap and flutter to the ground- tears of blood shed for you. “Aye, what news have you?”
“The Prince! He needs you!” Ignoring protocol, he grabs my hand, intending to pull me towards my stead.
My blood runs cold at his statement, my face turns an ashen gray. The few stalks of roses slip from my fingers, its thorns scratching my skin. I seem rooted to the ground as my mind replays his words.
“My Lady!” he tugs at my arm once more and I snap back into reality.
“Yes, yes, we should leave now!”
I pick up my skirts and the trains of my gown as I run towards my stead, mounting it unaided.
For hours I ride with the messenger leading, refusing to stop to rest until I am finally by your side. Though physically exhausted, my mind races; memories of our time together flash past me causing me to weep silently. Visions of our trip to Paris visiting the royal family as newly weds, flash past my eyes. Those roses, those dark red roses you used to leave for me to discover, together with little notes of love. At this, my tears flow down uncontrollably, dripping like rain drops upon the white mane of my stead.
“My lady, we have arrived.” The soft whisper of the messenger penetrates my thoughts once more. I look around, feeling foreign, a spot of blue amongst a sea of grey armor. Yet they all bow as I pass, opening a path to the tent of my Prince, they’re demoralized faces fill with grief as they cast their eyes upon the tent and its occupant.
Hush whispers greet me as I enter the tent, ambassadors and Generals revert their gazes as to not meet my eyes. And there, on the bunk, you lay still, only greeting me with a small glimmer of a smile. Trying not to look at the bandage around your head, I kneel by your side and cradle your hand, kissing your finger tips gently.
“Elizabeth?” you whisper, parting your eyelids to look at me. Even this simple task seems to take much effort to accomplish and I can only nod at his question.
“Thank you for being here, thank you.”
“Why? I am your wife, my lord, I should be by your side at all times.” I whisper through my tears.
“Hush now,” you say, raising a hand to wipe away a tear. “Do not cry.”
I cannot comply your wishes and a myriad of tears flood down my cheeks.
“Now, now, how will you rule the kingdom once I am gone?”
I look at you, shocked. “When you are gone? No, my lord, you will return to rule with me at your side!”
You chuckle softly, his laugh developing into a fit of coughs. Retrieving your hand from your mouth, you show me your palm. Blood, red like the roses, stain it.
“What is this, my lord?” I ask, crying softly.
“This is my death sentence.” You rasp back, your eyes slowly closing.
“No, my lord, do not leave me!” I almost scream!
When you give no reply, I take your beautiful face in my hands and kiss your soft lips, crying harder when you give no response. From the corner of my eye, I see your brother, Richard, smirking,

Yes, your treacherous brother whom, upon your death, pushed me aside and surrendered to the enemy. Your traitorous brother, who signed a treaty with the enemy, agreeing to give our little kingdom away on the condition that he will rule. And I? I have been locked up in the tower, destined to live the rest of my days watching the clouds and weeping.
My life has become meaningless without your presence. And from my exile in the clouds, I watch as the kingdom you spent so hard to build and prosper, crumble in Richard’s hands; the stars of the kingdom, fading in your wake.
But in my last days, all that I could think of was why you never, not once, wrote to me until the very end when a messenger was sent to inform me of your impending death. Have you forgotten about me during the war whilst I spent my days frantically wringing my heart waiting for news of you? And one day, William, your constant companion, is admitted to my humble quarters and with him, a huge sack. A sack which he overturns and empties the contents onto my bed. Letters! So many letters! I take one and read through it, weeping with joy at the recognition of your masculine hand. You have, indeed, written to me. “But he did not want you to know of the dire situation at the front.” William explains.
I read every letter of yours, a tear for every word, a silent sob with every letter. I read for hours on end even by candlelight. Before I know, the sun had risen on a new day. Looking up from the last letter I smile at the ray of sunlight, welcoming its warmth. I make my way towards the window, watching the crowd of peasants go about their business. Looking up towards the clouds, I gasp in delight. There you are, sitting amongst the clouds, smiling down at me. I step up onto the window ledge, holding my arms out to you and you, standing so far yet so near, offer your hand. Taking it and smiling, I take one step towards you.
Now here I stand, by your side, living each day with fresh roses and kisses. But best of all, your undying and eternal love.

Unknown "-Lady Butterfly-" Serene - 16 years, 6 months, 6 days ago