LAUREL

                               

         The woods grow smaller every year.  My leaves
         Fall green and withered.  Bitter water stings
         My shrinking roots.  Yet I am Laurel still.
         I am the tree that one time was a maid,
         But that was long ago.  Poor Daphne!  She
         Wanes dimmer each time I recite her name.
         But I remember running,  how we nymphs
         Out raced the wind.  And when my branches feel
         The sun's rays, I remember basking on
         The banks to dry, each other's hair to braid.
         And even though it's many years since he
         Has touched my bark and wept, I can recall
         My father when he'd look at me with pride
         And beg for grandsons ...and I would have borne
         Them too, and gladly, had I found a man
         With half his sense.  (Leucippus!
         He thought he'd violate our hallowed grove
         And woo me in a maiden's frock.  Oh,
         That stupid smile of his when from beneath
         The dripping linen all of us could see
         His penis swell.  No hunter ever split
         A hart as fast as we dismembered him.)

         Apollo, Lord of Delphi, brat of Jove,
         Great God of shepherds, music, archery!
         Physician...you, who could not even cure yourself,
         Do not blame Cupid for your wanton deeds.
         By your own oracle you were deceived.
         As stubble burns till mountains are consumed,
         Your love-at-first-sight fancy swelled to lust.
         Struck speechless I could not believe my fate,
         "Of all the women in the world, why me?"
         But you persisted, forcing gifts on me.
         And then I thought it must have been my fault,
         "If only I were ugly, sickly, old."
         I whined.  I cried.  I tried to hurt myself,
         Until at last my anger came.  I raged,
         "Is there no justice?"  Panting you pursued
         Me, as a hound, who scents a hare, is mad
         With craving.  Even when at last transformed
         You sought to win me, calling out my name.
         When you could hear my heart no more, you left.
         But just because you ceased, it does not mean
         It's over now for me as well.  I still
         Feel fear.  I can't, will not forget, excuse.
         And I will see my story's told to all.

         Vile brilliance, hated lover, witless God,
         Now hear me!  I renounce you, still and will.
         I'm sure Olympus knows your sighs, your smirks.
         You wear my leaves, a trophy for your crown.
         You tell your pals that you're  the victim of
         My beauty.  NO!  You sought to take my flesh
         With force against my will.  You can't pretend
         It didn't happen.  You know what I know.
         I didn't like it either and you can't
         Pretend I did.  I never led you on.
         In words both firm and gentle, I said "No."
         Avoidance, frowns and stares said so as well.
         And then your tone began to change and like
         The hare I started.  You then played the hound
         And off we raced through grove and brush and field,
         Until I felt your breath upon my neck.
         I stopped.  I cried, "Oh father, rescue me!"
         And then my aching legs grew heavy, bark
         Encased my breasts, and from my temples leaves
         Came trailing down my trunk, my toes took root,
         I saw my arms branch out before my eyes.
          No longer Daphne, Laurel I became
         And I should not have had to, but I did.

        I wince no more with every woodsman's stroke.
        Now sap, not blood drips from each lover's knife
        And many maidens fill this grove with tears.
        This forest's more a home now than my home.
        These years I've learned much I'd have never known.
        I can't say I am happy for my fate
        And yet I am resigned, excepting that
        The last indignity imposed on me
        Is this:  it is in my best interest to
        Forgive him.  And I won't.  This bark has kept
        Me safe.  These limbs, each twig has served me well.
        But need I stay so?  Dare I be a maid
        Again?  Were I a crone, would I be free
        To run and swim and flourish as I please?
        And could I ever learn to laugh again?
        I do not know.  And so I stay a tree.

 

Reviews

[Sara Rincon]

I really really love this poem. I love the way you reference the tale and the beat it seems to take on as you read. great job.