Scene Of The Flood
Inspired by the Anne-Louis Girodet Painting
Feet set and dry, at least it can be said,
Yet now the water’s rising, full of dead.
This far she’s climbed, she’s raised her family
Above the gnashing flood come suddenly.
The husband who would lift her up, he bears
Across his back the weight of works of years
And for support the branch he’s firm attached
Resounds its grief and cackles as it cracks.
And worse, her charges, all she’s ever owned,
Two babes, a son, and yet a bigger son,
Are thrashing at her neck and on her breast;
Writhe upward, nipping skin, and rip her vest.
The hand that saves her might need saving too,
The things she must protect would drag her down
Feet set, the rock is wet now, draining through,
She can’t give up herself, or all will drown.
Originally appeared in Little Epic — subscribe for free!
