The First Cut
The first cut
Is always the hardest
She remembers
In the quiet moments
In her dreams
Her nightmares…
She remembers the way
Her brother cried out
The blood gushing from the wound
That she made in his throat
The way he writhed
And screamed
And begged
And then went silent
As the last of his lifeblood
Stained the deck
Of her lover’s ship
She remembers the splash
His limbs made
As they fell over the side
Into the wine dark sea
The keening wail
That crossed the distance
Between her ship
And her father’s
As he mourned his fallen son
Like he would never mourn her
The first cut
Is always the hardest
She tells the eager young women
Princesses whose love for their father
Far outweighs their critical thinking skills
As she hacks at the neck of an old ram
One hand on the horns
One on the knife
Eyes on her lover
Heart bent for his revenge
She remembers the spatter
The old king’s blood made
As his daughter’s held him down
Confused, then angry, then terrified
Crying for help only when it was too late
She remembers the screams of the girls
Those poor, trusting fools
When she refused to use her magic
And walked away
Leaving them to face
The consequences of her treachery
The first cut
Is always the hardest
She tells herself now
Hand once again on the knife
Heart once again set on revenge
It gets easier after that
She lies to herself
As her children
Her babies
Run toward her with opens arms
She’ll remember their screams in her nightmares
From here to eternity
But even more she’ll remember
How the blood drains
From her lover’s face
When he realizes what she’s done
Why are you surprised?
She wants to ask
You knew what I did to be with you
You saw what I’d do if you asked
What made you think I would be any kinder
When taking up the blade
On my own behalf?
She doesn’t ask
Doesn’t remind him
Of the blood on her hands
Blood spilt for him
Blood spilt because of him
Now, blood spilt to spite him
Instead
While he screams his rage
And his grief at the sky
She laughs
Taking golden reins into blood soaked hands
As her chariot rises
Far above the stained earth
Far from fathers and brothers and kings and lovers
She tosses that old knife over the side
She watches it land
Split the earth before her lover
And she speaks
The last words to him she’ll ever say
“The first cut
Is always the hardest
I’d suggest you get started”