Stay
Mary Soon Lee
In the twelfth year
of King Xau's reign,
on a windswept spring
morning,
the palace gardens littered
with peach blossom,
Queen Shazia went into
labor
with their fifth child.
A day, a night, a day.
On the second night,
waiting in the hallway,
Xau heard Shazia scream.
Repeatedly.
An hour after midnight,
the royal physician came
out to Xau:
"Your Majesty, the
baby
is facing forward, not
backward.
The labor is not
progressing well."
Two drawn breaths before
the man's words
made any sense--
Xau saw the red-and-gold
dragon
embroidered upon the
shoulder
of the physician's robes,
saw how the lamplight
glinted from the polished
scabbards
of Xau's watching guards--
these things, these details
unaltered, unaffected--
and then Xau's heart
thumped
like a galloping horse--
"Can you help
her?"
The physician shook his
head.
"I can cut the baby
from Queen Shazia's belly,
but it would kill
her."
"No."
"Sire, neither I nor
the midwife
think your wife can be
saved.
The baby might live."
"No. Try. Try to save
her.
Try everything you
can."
Clearly, concisely,
so that there might be no
misunderstanding, Xau said,
"Shazia is more
important
than our child."
The physician bowed and
left.
The slow passing of the
night. Dawn.
More of Xau's guards came
on duty,
gathered about him. None
left.
In the early morning, the
midwife came out.
"Your Majesty, your
son was stillborn."
"Shazia?"
"We can't stop the
bleeding."
The midwife led Xau into
the room.
The window open,
the scent of peach blossom,
sunlight touching the edge
of the bed
where Shazia lay:
pale, her hair damp,
sweaty,
cradling their son on her
chest,
the physician pushing
something
between her legs--
the sheets down there red--
"Shazia--"
Xau knelt beside her,
kissed her damp forehead--
"Shazia, we, I, I love
you."
"Xau." Her eyes
brimmed.
He kissed her again,
touched their son's cheek.
Cold.
Their son's lips purple,
his nose so small, so
perfect.
"I'm sorry," said
Shazia.
He bent over her,
held both her and their
son.
"Don't be. Don't be
sorry. I'm sorry."
He wanted to lie,
wanted to soothe her,
wanted to say it would be
all right.
He wanted to ask her,
wanted to beg her
to stay.
He did not.
He said, inadequately,
"Our son is
beautiful."
She closed her eyes,
panting for breath.
"Xau?"
"I'm here. I love
you," said Xau.
He held her, held their son
until she stopped panting,
stopped breathing,
her skin emptying of color.
The physician stood up
and moved away from the
bed.
Xau let go of Shazia,
anchored the baby
beneath her arms.
He had to get up,
had to tell the children.
First--
He looked for the
physician,
the midwife.
"Thank you for
attending our wife. Let--"
His voice crumbled.
He wrestled the words out.
"Let the baby stay
with her."
Poet's Notes: This is part of The Sign of the Dragon, http://www.thesignofthedragon.com my epic fantasy in verse, which centers on King Xau. Xau was chosen by a dragon
to rule; he possesses a magical power over horses; he defeats a demon. But in
this poem he is as helpless as any of us.
Xau nearly always speaks
using the first person plural, the royal "we," saying, "We are
King Xau," rather than, "I am King Xau." This is one of the few
times that he switches to first person singular, speaking to his wife for the
last time, telling her he loves her.
Editor’s Note: For an earlier--and
happier--poem about Xau and Shazia, see: http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2015/03/poem-of-day-companionship-by-mary-soon.html.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.