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Whatever happened
to you?
Were you really mad?
- out on your own?
- constantly
misunderstood?
Were you feared and hated?
- pushed away?
Were
you frightened?
You seemed so brave.
You seemed so wise
but
Time has woven you a cloak of political lies
so I can't reach
you.
I search but I can't find you.
Oh Cassandra, where are
you?
What did you
foresee?
- a firebrand brother and a thousand ships?
- noble
Hector's sordid death?
- your father butchered on the altar steps?
Who
was that tortured priestess
snatched from the Goddess?
Did
the so-called Great King treat you well?
and did you bear him
sons?
- and perish together in a far off land?
- so much I
need to know....
What are
these spectres?
Why are they looking at me?
There is one
with an axe,
a soldier with a sword,
a family in tatters
wailing.
From princess
to slave
you knew life & loss& death & truth
so I thought
you'd understand.
Can you see why I call to you?
If you were
made then I'm mad also.
If only I could talk with you
- hear
your voice and touch you
- know after all that it's OK.
What are
these spectres?
Why are they looking at me?
There is one
with an axe,
a soldier with a sword,
a family in silence
waiting.
Over sea and
terrain
but I can't travel back through time.
I'm still searching
for clues
from the ruins of your ancient home
to the City
of Gold where the sun went down on you
but even if amongst these
crumbling stones
I should stumble upon your bones
I wouldn't
know - and anyway it wouldn't be you.
(The dust escapes between
my fingers.)
Empty vessels.
Déjà vu.
Please
pray to your Goddess for me
to Athena, to Apollo and to Hecate.
Am
I the one with the axe?
- the soldier with the sword?
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