Elaine's Lament for Lancelot
I would that I were Guinevere; the keeper of his heart
I cannot be all that he needs therefore I must depart
As I lie down within my boat I watch the clouds go drifting by
My tears fall as the song-birds call, the wind is echoed in my sigh
Will he miss me when I'm gone?
Will he know what once he had?
Will he look for me and not finding me, understand the grief I had?
Will tears fill his eyes so blue when I am no longer in his life?
Or will he give himself to her; the cause of all my strife?
I am no princess, I am no queen for I am but Elaine...
The great prize is won by Guinevere and alas, my heart is slain!
By Marie Bruce
This poem was published in The Witch's Almanac 2011. It is my own take on the tale of The Lady of Shalot; a woman in love with a man who is already destined for another and the heart-ache which follows the separation.