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~ Araweelo ~
She cherry picked men's balls in scores
then flung those who lived over great walls
their screams sometimes carried by shrill winds of the fall
loyal fierce warriors unflinching, stand guard
their long slender necks adorned by the 'gems' of their foes
thus cautioned the tales told by elderly frail bards
She was a man hater, a she-devil, they'd sung
a man's worst nightmare in the land of punt
but if you listen more closely to the muted notes
her shimmering soul peeks through diaphanous words
trembling lips of the wise would recall with envied whispers
how she brought a blood famine to the now starving war demons
whose obese stained frames constantly fed on tribal vengeance
she defied customs
formed the first feminist movement
out of self-preservation and
persevered against patriarchal dictums
A queen-like figure
her conquests untold
crowned by circumstance
bequeathed on her sleek African form
neither an heiress apparent nor a queen consort
from widowed ashes sprung her notorious throne
Cast into the woods with fellow ostracized brides
no property to bait dowry from greedy war lords
she formed a Cushitic battalion to rival her Amazonian brethren
and spun sanity back into chaos ridden villages
blood thirsty war lords were banished for their sins
and those that persisted were given a life sentence
incarceration turned to castration in handed down versions
her reign was that of prosperity and quelched skirmishes
her people sung praises as along as she lived
exchanged gifts with the likes of Queen of Sheba
a real tale or a myth, we might never know now
The truth lay buried in her unmarked tomb
her image like water changes with the ripples of words
A feminist queen
A bereaved mother
A fierce hunter
in 15 AD
now merely a villain
rarely a secret heroin
in bedtime reads
and camp fire stories
Published 24th Feb 2012
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