The Torch
Fall Edition
Summer Wind : Eurydice on the shores of the Lethe BY CATHERINE FOSTER MERCY MCAULEY
Agony is a poor excuse for infidelity of the soul Her spectral hands tremored As they reached to embrace the golden , liquid heresy That could erase her every wound
She could bear how Orpheus had failed her The memory of plummeting into eternal darkness Her flesh turning to mist as Hades ’ icy fingers took hold again The mind-numbing drabness of the underworld
The winning writer for preconvention poetry !
Yes , she could certainly bear any torture in Tartarus For him .
But she couldn ’ t bear the memory of his face framed in sunlight Dark curls and ocean eyes filled with adoration Hands outstretched towards her , inviting her home
And how those ocean eyes shattered like sea glass when he realized the terrible truth
She remembered one last time as she prepared to commit the betrayal Remembered his gentle hands caressing her face Remembered the first time he played for her , divine as the muses who trained him Remembered how his music had warmed her like a summer wind
“ Oh ! Oh-gods ! I ’ m sorry ! I ’ m sorry ! I ’ m sorry !” Filmy silver tears poured down her transclucent cheeks Breathless sobs shook her cold chest A sound so haunting Sisyphus stopped rolling his boulder for a moment And Charon ’ s oar paused mid-stroke To listen to her pain
She brought the deadly panacea to her lifeless lips She forced herself to sip Herself … Hers … …
A lone spiritess stood on the shores of the Lethe Her mind blank except for a single song A melody of summer wind
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