Ode to Saint Joan of Arc

By Tommy Long

Ode to Saint Joan of Arc

by fourth year Erin O’Keefe

Her glimmering head bowed,

Gracefully granted the everlasting breath.

Blood of acts ring bells to sound,

Cries are spent, then put to death.

I push past some flickering image of the girl I used to be. Yet, I still see in her my peripheral vision: long hair as silken as the ribbon round her waist, and the rosy smile of innocence; green pastures with lambs peacefully bleating; circling the oak tree in dance; clasping small hands in prayer. 

Her silvery sword in hand,

Eyes to heavenly light raised.

Immovable her body shall stand,

And France will be soon saved.

Ahead I see destruction; now I hear the tumult of war. My banner of blue and white reminds me of the Holy Sepulchre tonight. I stretch out my legs, metallically concealed. My body feels mechanical, like it is not my own; it is like my mission, a role I have taken by God’s will. His prophecy consumes me.

 Her crown of gold is bestowed,

A single name left her lips

As the crowd of flames arose,

She did not fear their kiss.

My death is wrought by flames; from fire my new life is born. The light is burning brighter until it congeals with the sun and they become one. I open my eyes to see blue and white. The only metal is golden, the only fire is sunshine, the only death is life. I see myself in a silken dress with a rosy smile laying in the soft meadow bed, holding a lamb like it is my baby. I join the Elysian scene that is my eternal destiny.

Before she was devoured,

Evil thought it had won—

But even her last gruesome hour

Was spent with God’s sun.