| Sword
She lay back on the couch, and laughed at me Without making a sound, eyes sparkling Grinning as she chewed on the point of a dagger. If a panther were to take human form, this is how it would lounge and laugh. Her arm, her wits, her passions Have cloven gods and devils alike She is the essence of the best and the worst of the Olympians She has been, herself, the worst of devils. You are the godlike sword of destruction You bring down uncanny the full and unreserved blessings even of Yahweh Avatars Eli and Krishna will ally with you Lao Ma dashed her dreams upon you Ares the supremely selfish has given up himself. Gods, Xena, how your blessings are curses! Hate you and we will end in dust and destruction, even at our own hands. Love you--and, What happens when we embrace a volcano, kiss a hurricane, Clasp a sword blade fully into our breast? Yet with what ecstasy do your lovers rush to their fate; you are worth all of it. We fall on this sword of a warrior, and, cleaved, thank you for it. I understand the power-hungry, the crudely lustful, the merely greedy who followed you, but-- Even we who would be thinkers, lovers of justice--you draw us like moths! Gods! Following the light, even of the Destroyer of Nations To you is the unreserved privilege of change as you will. You might save an evil one, dragging her eyes to regard goodness, and loving it Because it is part of what you have become. Just as you once lured the good and the mediocre to the darkness of your past. You, the recreator--of yourself-- You brought forth a similar progeny to yourself; another devil redeemed to lightbringer. Manifester of Kali and Mother of Callisto, past and present The Senders of prophets smile and applaud you, Yet, why would they not? "Irresistible" is a word too-lightly used, until you happened. We who rebel at fancied slights, who trounce bullies and overthrow tyrants who offend us Yet would kneel with outstretched necks to accept your sword, if that is your will. I say it is not true, that I would resist Yet, if you said it was truly necessary, how could I refuse if you asked my sacrifice? Am I a fool? Are your past and present lovers? Yes! For this foolishness, we would cast away the world. We have done so already. And in so doing, I have become myself to the fullest. Amazing. Ah, Xena, I never thought it possible: There exists a quality of wild and reckless greatness Beyond the reach of all qualms and moralizing. How do you do it? To so transcend a normal mortal life (--or immortal; you traverse all realms like a summer's stroll--) That I cannot gainsay your being given grace by the gods. Like one who hates weapons, yet one day Witnesses the blinding light of a sword unsheathed With perfection greater than any bestowal of Hephaestus himself So pure in essence of being that the Wielding Hypnotizes the once puritan viewer Beyond consideration of the deed, sinful or redemptive. If I choose to ink these words, today, It is only to marvel at the unbelievability That someone like myself could see this as the truth. I have argued with you, Xena; I have tried to change you sometimes I have looked to find a different truth than yours for myself But I have come to see that you are, indeed, a verity unto yourself, As starkly and fully true, As unarguable in the end As the arc of that blinding and beautiful sword That speaks for itself, In a world where human words no longer have meaning. What is it, Xena, that so binds me to you That even should I take you out of this life, you would Embrace me in the next one? For the mirror principle holds And as I could spill your blood, or that of the children you most dearly love, So can you take all of this from me. I have fought you before, perhaps will fight you again one day, To protect the world from you Because you know, in another realm, I have surrendered irrevocably. I know this to be utter madness beyond all reason. But as I gaze at you, such a feeling rises up inside That I know all pain is acceptable, all actions possible. Every moment, even the worst, worth any price in all the universe Just to be your love. Even sharing the cross with you was more deeply heaven than it was ever hell. Furies, you have no madness to bestow That compares with what is in my heart for this trenchant, scintillating being And for what rages in her soul for me I reject all parallels, any miseries inappropriate to suffer for love in all other lives and situations For there has never been, nor will ever be Anything, anything like this--the gods themselves have bowed and withdrawn In the face of it. It is a miracle created between us Given by the universe to the sword, and the lover of the sword. Perfection that is apart from, that redefines, other kinds of perfection. We accept the gift with wonder, and certainty. The panther is arising, now clearly woman, turning towards me. Her swordlike being has shattered life and death, Tartarus and Elysia. To touch her existence is to surrender to lightning, fire, chaos, and unrelenting brilliance. I go to her in utter serenity. ©Jeanine Hensley; October 2000 |
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