The condemnation of Aphrodite

The condemnation of Aphrodite - Annabel Church

You enter the courtroom, Aphrodite with that smooth, serene smile. Your face is like marble, your features betray none of the monster within. Your lips curve up in an angelic grimace. Will you look at the dead souls in this courtroom Aphrodite, will you? Have you seen what you’ve done to them? Your long fingers tap on the wooden bench, oh how I despise you. You must be punished. The people here must be avenged. The white skin over your cheeks has not a blemish. Will you compare them to the tearstained, blackened faces of the ones who want revenge?

Your eyes survey those who have fallen victim to the wicked ways of your craft. It is magic, it is dark. It is disgusting. Those eyes of yours have looked into so many faces, seen so many hearts cracked in two. You have seen souls split down the middle through those blue, impenetrable eyes of yours. You must pay, Aphrodite, you must pay. The sound of your breathing is barely audible over the wailing of those damned to a lifetime of loneliness. Oh how can one touch of your slender hand be enough to ruin years or happiness? I wish I had never met you Aphrodite. All women do.

What is your secret Aphrodite? What is the spell that turns warrior women into slaves and proud empresses into whores? I see you muttering that incantation even now, weaving your words around your next victim like a cobra in the ritual of a massacre. We have you behind bars Aphrodite, you are trapped. See that line of women standing there? They are the witnesses. The witnesses to your war crimes. Your war, our war, their war. The war with no beginning and no end but an endless battle in which everybody dies. You may say there is no proof of what you have done but these half-creatures have scars. They have eternal scars that lacerate the heart and the mind, the soul and the body. They are bruised, broken and irreparable. Look at what you have done.

Look at these poor creatures in the face as they testify against you! Can you not bear to look into their eyes, worn away by the endless tears of suffering you have induced with a flash of your beauty? The line of victims is never ending. Each one has a similar story against you; each one is a clone of the last with you as their creator. The evidence is incontestable. The cause is an every repeating rhetorical question. Why Aphrodite, why?

They say that you were abandoned by your lover, Aphrodite. Is that true? They say you were willing to give up your limitless immortality for him and him alone. You were ready to bath in the temperate waters of humanity and leave behind forever that kingdom of everlasting starlight and beauty. As you stood naked beside the stream between your world and his, awaiting the moment when you would cross over at last to the kingdom of your desire, is it true that you saw him, Aphrodite? You saw him with Another. You stood frozen between two eternal heartbeats amongst the deep, pungent forest of your shattered dreams. Every last fragment of the love you ever had and had ever been shown leaked from your dripping heart. Your eyes turned cold and your once sun-blessed face changed to granite. You destroyed them both, didn’t you Aphrodite? Your hatred would have been enough to destroy the empty spaces of the universe and burnout the centre of an age-old supernova. You would have destroyed everything, even yourself had it not been for your bitterness. Do you deny that you wanted to share your burden? Spread your sadness? Disperse your despair in the heart of every member of the human race?

The jury will pass their verdict soon but you do not seem to be moved by any earthy thing. Your eyes are distant as you listen to the incessant murmurings of the testimonies sworn against your beautiful face. Oh cruel one, is it our fault that he killed you? Why must we suffer? Neither do you take in the voices of the lawyers, the bustle of the clerks or the majestic tones of the judge. This is not a court martial. Yet how many innocent victims have you condemned to the endless torment of internal bullets. Shooting, maiming, and killing their souls over and over again until all that is left is a shred of a presence, a scrap of a shadow. They are your bullets, Aphrodite. They are gold tipped just like the ends of your voluptuous hair and the tips of your eyelashes. Of course you do not deny it. You never say a word.

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. You are condemned Aphrodite. Your crimes have been humanised in a court of law. But what can they do against you? Will they put you in chains? The policemen are carrying you off now and you offer no resistance. You have no resistance. The crowd in the courtroom jeer at you as you are led away. They have got their revenge, haven’t they? But I see pity in some eyes; I see tears shed for the demon goddess. You win again, Aphrodite, as you always do. They will let you into their hearts and you will live on. Just as I let you into mine, your ethereal gaze a constant companion to my interminable despair.