LOST WATERFALLS

It was only after victory that she entered the ancient, long-abandoned temple and, once alone, finally allowed anger to be turned into waterfalls of grief. 

She cried for the slaughtered ones: on both sides. She cried for herself, heart forever scorched by the burning of innocents. She felt like dying then. If some avenging angel had come to strike her down, she might have welcomed the divine wrath.

None came.

The only voice to finally break her solitude was familiar and wary.

“Your Majesty,” said her chancellor, “your generals need to know: shall we burn the city down?”

She pondered for a moment, then stood up and, casting her eyes away from the weathered stone where tears had pooled, answered: “Yes. Burn it. Burn it all.”

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A companion piece to SCARS OF THE SOUL