Did she come to her father with innocent joy,
running in with arms open wide?
Did she shriek out in terror upon seeing Da standing,
alone, with a sword in his hand?
Was she distracted, by caress or kind word,
And die trusting in a father who loved?
Did her brothers come between her and her death,
standing themselves on the brink?
Did they stand and defend or pursue and declare,
revealing the place where she hid?
Did they run her to ground like foxes and hounds,
and start ripping as the Master approached?
Did he come to her angry, in the heat of his rage
Or later, after cold calculation?
Did he drink in sin to lessen his wits,
and the memory of what was to come;
coonvinced by his god of a blot on his honor
that only her blood could erase?
And the one who stood mute, who could, with a word
Have proven her status inviolate.
Does he think of her now, as he lies in the cell
waiting on his brother, her father, to free him?
Does he think of her body, cold and unmoving
or does his lust now turn to another?
Did her mother keep a lock of hair to caress
To weep on and smell, for remembrance?
Does she wail in the night, cursing her god,
damning him, for the fate of her daughter?
Does she tell the mirror that nothing was lost
?After all, she was only a girl?”
Update: Other reactions
Spleenville
Daily Pundit
Webmink, via Natalie
