P.J. Monroe's Published Writing

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Guinevere's Last Days

To her, they brought his body,
Which was dirty and bloody
And devoid of the life she loved;
Next to him, on the convent floor,
She kneeled and prayed to God
That He might shine a guiding light

She prayed until the morning light,
Until there was an ache in her body;
Still no answer came from God,
Even though she wore her knees bloody,
On that cold, stone convent floor;
No answer, for God was not the one she loved

Lancelot was the only man she ever loved;
Without him, her life was without light,
As cold and as dark as the floor;
No love, no life was within her body;
She wished herself also dead and bloody,
Perhaps then she could be with him and God

"What other choice?" she asked God-
The king, who she should have loved,
Would be alive but also bloody;
Perhaps, before the next day's light,
She should go, mind and body,
To stand before him, on the court floor

What would he do, seeing her on that floor;
He certainly would not praise God,
Nor ever again touch her body,
For she was no longer the one he loved;
He would cast her out of his light
And that day's dusk would be colored bloody

Or perhaps he would order her neck bloody
And her head to roll on the floor;
This might give him back his life's light;
For her death, he would praise God,
For God, before her, he always loved;
God to have her soul and he, her body

So with wrists bloody, she called to God;
And fell to the floor, next to the man she loved;

In the morning's light, to the king they brought her body

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