by Dolores Esteban


The sun is up. The day is warm and bright.
So tender; blissful spring has come anew.
Alas, my heart is cold. I see no light.
My friend, belov’d, oh why did death take you
Away from me and separate our paths?
I am a king no more; so sad but true.
This is my fate. I feel an inward wrath.
The past is gone; the days ahead past too.
Oh God, are there no angels who do care,
No helpful guardians of my fate aware?

Bannockburn, name of bane and name of doom.
Deep engraved in my heart: disgrace and shame.
Those brave and great men fell; all killed too soon.
The fault is mine. The king, he is to blame.
In vain I do lament the step I took.
The battle’s lost and England is laid low.
The peers despise me; Edward II, a crook.
They seek to bring him down, their deadly foe.
My life’s forfeited; fate has cast a pall.
My death’s decided; doom will soon befall.

I cannot hear the angels’ soothing voice.
I do not sense a god comforting me.
I cannot see the light of Paradise.
Nor do I know how to escape and flee.
I only hear the voice of my belov’d;
My dearest friend, lost to the realm of death.
I hear his tender voice just from afar.
He calls my name; tempts me to join his path.
Shall I give in to his enticing words?
I feel I must for my sad life – it hurts.

The sun is up. The day is warm and bright.
So tender; blissful spring has come anew.
But all I see is everlasting night.
The shadows haunt me; charge my memory.
So many years ago I did rejoice;
Was happy with my love Piers Gaveston.
All that remain’d is his so distant voice.
I cling to it; I seek its soothing sound.
Is there a hope for me, the battered king?
Where are those angels that sweet Psalters sing?

I wish for one more chance, one happy day.
I wish for my spoilt life to shift and change.
I fold my hands; I speak to you and pray.
The angels only know how to arrange
A wondrous change. Oh Lord, I beseech thee.
Have mercy, God. Help me, oh angels dear.
I long to hear your voice that speaks to me.
Your sweet and blissful words I long to hear.
My heart is cold, my soul is all torment.
Oh Lord, I need your love, your helping hand.


© 2011 Dolores Esteban


First published at GA Gay Authors - Gay Quality Fiction