The goddess demands perfect chastity:
Thirty years of dutiful service
Tending the hearth that warms reality
Ritual and sacrificial practice
Prestige and influence are her gifts
Seats for dramatic spectacles and games
No gaze to meet her own ever lifts
The Pontifex Maximus heeds her claims
No hand presumes to defile her pure flesh
Any trespasser seeks a sepulcher
Her mind is cultivated, her thoughts fresh
One day, the goddess will relinquish her
Who will be worthy of this holy bride
Leaving the temple with nothing to hide?
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from D. J. Reddall and writers in Poets and other communities.
181 Keeping Watch
Each day she watched through her window. Watched? Perhaps an exaggeration: a monochromatic nuclear aftermath remaining of the world, blurring into a blindness--loss of contrast and depth of field. Achromatic aberrations displayed a waste-scape stratified in grays.
By Gerard DiLeo4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
Incredible poem! This evokes a sense of power and authority associated with a figure with great influence!
Haven’t seen the Vestal before - what inspiration!
This was so poignant and beautifully written! Loved your poem!
Prestige and influence are her gifts What it would be, I wonder, to have these ideal humans around in this day. You brought them back to life in this poem!
Nice, D.J.. Vestal virgins have always had this mystery, haven't they?