Lucinda. The Queen Of Broken Hearts. Poem by John Duffy

(A lone voice whispers)




I hope she still waits





My old wife in my old life called Lucinda





A great great descendant of the Quechuan people



Who once lived in the Cuzco valley in Peru





From which grew





The Great Inca Empire from around 1100 to the 1530s





Before they were hunted and cut down by the Spanish





Like curs





As they all cried out in pain in their native tongues





Please don't hurt us





That rebellious wild woman of such irreducible taste





Clad in thick pink mink furs





Whose bright grey eyes





Still shine I can only hope





With the illustrious glow of that illuminated flame





Which was once stolen





Like a thief in the night from the old gods





By the untamed one named Prometheus





From heavens dark skies





Which always enhanced her beautiful face





Making her look like a modern-day Morgana





The cunning sorceress





From the Arthurian legends





From where all her pagan blood probably flows





Even to this day

She still even now





Holds and controls me like a pawn on her ethereal chessboard



.

Enthralled in a grip of steel as I try to break free and takedown





Her carefully constructed walls





Where she always stands on





So proud and tall





And in these dark woods at the final stroke of midnight





Lost here in The Great In-Between





We sometimes still meet as I'm summoned by her soul





As she stands singing eloquently





In her candlelit circle in the white falling snow





Worshipping Mother Moon and watching the dark skies





As its white clouds roll





Uttering strange ancient spells





Unknown to most





As she conquers me as I come into view from the East Coast





Before I can yell





It's why I still visit





For I'm just hypnotised





And mesmerised by the delicious sounds





Of her golden ringing summoning bells







Copyright John Duffy