Rumours Of Your Sainthood Poem by Chris Zachariou

A stranger's face leaps
out of the looking glass.

In a panic, I peel
the layers searching for
the girl I knew, the girl
with the flower cotton dress.

Your life unfolds
on endless screens.
I am dazzled!
Many talk of your sainthood,
others compare you to a work of art.

In many people's eyes
you are equal to an angel,
an inspiration to Antony
some even may say
but they can only see
the laurels of your success
and not the coin we paid.

All stories have their season
and soon, you were craving
for all that lay beyond.

Every day, I nursed our wounds
and mended our broken bones;
every day, you killed us slowly until
we did not know each other anymore.

Our nights became silent.
We began to make love
without love until you had
nothing left for me anymore
not even your anger.

You waited each morning
by the quay scanning the horizon
for the ferry and you
traded in your cotton flower dress
for a shiny leather briefcase,
a powerful mission statement
and a Montblanc pen.

The neon lights of ambition
beckoned you to go.