Wednesday, 30 September 2015


On the windward side
Of a mountain high
A warrior screams:
"Here is my power,
To cast down tyranny;
In my heart is my spear,
For Gods made me free
Though Men enslaved me!"

And all the listening hosts
Wipe a glistening tear,
Thronged multitudes
Call out in grief;
They praise him
And agree.

Oh low, far below
On the shadowed lee
A woman stoops
To veil her woe
And whispers soft
And wee:

"Cover your face,
My sister, for beauty
Brings pain and disgrace;
Though Gods
Made me
Fair and free,
Slaves of slaves
Enslave me."

"Sharp spears wound
The weeping womb,
Flesh is harvested from me.
Only the Gods of Death
Or the death of Gods
Can set me free."

Manuela Cardiga

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