Isaiah Zerbst | + Follow Poet |
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Celena, Brave Celena- Part 2

Their rending cries, when all is still, reecho in the moonlight;
They lie about in fitful slumber on the ground at noonlight,
Their virgin hair spread in the dust; for nothing really matters:
Who then will see their tangled locks, their dresses all in tatters,
The myriad trails of tears on dusty faces robbed of gladness,
The haunted eyes all swollen red, such depthless pools of sadness?
It seems that they could melt the rocks to tears of lamentation,
There being not a hope for fair Celena's preservation.

Both months have passed; the time has come. Celena must be going;
She wanders to her father's house, while dreading, fully knowing
The manner and the time of death; she sees the gory vision
Of being bound, awaiting fate for Jephthah's poor decision;
Her trusting eyes both fixed on his, both filled with untold torture;
The final sight her eyes will see before her soul's departure:
Yet still she presses on, determined, lest the Lord in fury
Rain down his wrath for promise broken in a deadly flurry
On father and his wife and daughter, nation, tribe, and village,
And curse their life and health and plenty, oxen, sheep, and tillage
With sword or pestilence or famine, plague or deportation;
Thus one, though innocent, must die to ransom all her nation.

Beside his doorway Jephthah stands, all torn with deep confliction
Between the hope that she'd been killed, or lost her path's direction,
And longing just to see again his daughter, but for fleeting
Bitter moments, and to chisel in his mind the soft, yet wild beating
Of her heart against his own. Alas! A heart cast down in sorrow,
Dread, and fear: a heart run short of precious moments which to borrow.
Look! There she comes; the tearful maiden, followed by companions;
Bedraggled garments torn, and faces streaked with dust of canyons.
The bravest of them turn away with looks of wretched terror,
Departing to their distant homes, while trembling footsteps bear her
To where he stands, and wordlessly in this, their final parting,
Embraces her, and feels each heartbeat softly, wildly beating;
While that of his is softly, wildly, e'er so slowly bleeding.
Then hand in hand they tread together to the highest hilltop;
In Jephthah's grasp a wicked knife and fresh-picked bunch of hyssop.

With leather cord he binds her tight and lays her on the altar:
He takes in hand the fearsome blade, but there his fingers falter;
For sapphire eyes, Celena's eyes, into his own are bearing,
And seeing hurt and pain and fear, his firm resolve is tearing.
Jephthah's visage wilts and quavers, as if he would save Celena;
Then she speaks, his brave Celena, dutiful and grave Celena,
"Father, do it! Slay me now! E'er resolve is gone forever:
E'er I break and cry for mercy; then you know that you could never
Do this deed of you required." He with one last look of dolor
Into eyes so wide and fearful, thrust the knife and crimson color
Spread and trickled from her chest. So there it was! The deed completed.
There one moment, gone the next. The only thing he really needed
Frittered on a foolish vow. His only joy, his only child
Pale and still, and in her place a torture aye unreconciled.
Shaking fingers set the purest, sweetest offering afire,
Half expecting, hoping, wishing, as the hungry flames grew higher
That his precious sleeping daughter waken from her dreamless slumber;
But, alas! She ne'er could waken. Now he must be of the number
Whose lineage drifts away with them; who know no satisfaction:
Thus Jephthah grasped the wicked blade with sudden thought of action
And cut a yard-long lock of hair before the flame consumed her,
Then faced away; he could not face the awful way he'd doomed her;
Instead he snapped the blade in two and fell down by the altar
Crying, "Take this shame away from me, O Lord! And do not fault her
For dying in this time and fashion; let the blame be solely carried
By myself: oh, let her spirit live in peace!" And then he buried
His weeping head into his helpless arms, and kept on sobbing
Until the flames had burnt to cinders, thus forever robbing
Him of the chance of ever seeing sweet Celena's features.
Then he arose and stumbled home, not seeing all the creatures
Who stood their ground in utter silence, crying for Celena;
Nor all the girls at every doorfront, sighing for Celena; 
Thus never knew but one man's heart was dying for Celena.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015

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