Ophelia
Ava Wen
A willow grew across the brook and that is where they found me.The glassy stream showed my face where I could not see.It’s rippling laugh broke through it. I gaveRosemary for remembrance, pansies for your thoughts.I gave you fennel for flattery and deceit butThose were words that I spoke. That was my only tongue.Rue was meant for sorrow, or maybe for repentance.I followed every order but I still lost every chance.Daisies were picked apart with their petals thrown to the wind. I felt the insides of my soul slowly scattering, I foundEverywhere I searched was lost where he had been.I sang when I couldn’t think. I sang when I could only feel. They listen but can’t hear.Grey leaves shone like silver in the mottled light,Columbines were for the fidelity you lost to his wife.The nettles pricked my fingers, and they bit me and they stung.My throat was closed my words were caught, my thoughts dragged on and on.I wove a crown of flowers, branches trailed through my hair.The mockery of the water was ringing in my ears.The waters seemed so cool and its arms felt so forgiving.My layers of my skirts bundled bunched and felt so heavy.The branch I climbed weakest and so I fell through.A willow grew sideways as my world did too.