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by Cheryl Author IconMail Icon
Rated: ASR · Poetry · History · #1728748
A sestina from the point of view of Hannibal Barca's dead brother, Hasdrubal. Punic wars
Hasdrubal's March



I have stopped running like a frightened elephant.

Years ago you would have found this amusing, brother.

How can a man run without his head?

But we are grown men. I can no longer run from my ghosts.

They follow me even in death to gnaw at my pride.

Turn your seething rage on Rome; they are to blame.



You will torment the caged beast that is blame

until he is your enemy. Blame cannot be tamed like an elephant.

You should be honored, Hannibal, I died with pride.

I died a death worthy of a Barca brother.

Rome will remember the Barca family they will see my ghost

for giving you the sick prize of my severed head.



Defeat lays heavy on your shoulders; raise your head

and look to Baal. He knows who is to blame.

Hannibal shall not grieve or mourn my ghost.

Forget my face. You are strong as an elephant,

wise, and disciplined. You love too much, brother.

Turn your love to hate and avenge our family’s pride.



We lost our father to Rome, our friends, our sanity, but take pride

that you have your wife and son to come home to as head

of the Barca family. Mago and Hanno need you as their brother.

Do not abandon them because I would not take the blame

for my army’s loss. I could not face you so I sacrificed myself to stampeding elephants

in Roman armor. Your disappointment haunts me more than any ghost.



In life I was forever in your shadow. Every Barca is a ghost

compared to you. No matter your losses you are faultless. You pride

yourself in this fact. You must march on Rome like a charging elephant

with the same tenacity that pushed you this far ahead.

It will be my fault if you turn back, but Rome is to blame

for my death. March on Rome for your Carthaginian brothers.



While you indulge yourself in the grief of an undeserving brother

Rome charges forward and threatens to turn your wife and son into ghosts.

You could not bear to shoulder the blame

nor bury the dead. You must strike down Rome’s pride

while they rejoice over my death. Carthage will not be an army without a head.

Remember our father’s death, remember like an elephant.



Our father’s ghost rides with you Hannibal, steady as an elephant

to guide its young with pride. In his eyes you harbor no blame.

Turn your head to Rome and let them mourn their brothers.









© Copyright 2010 Cheryl (terramarkov at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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