'Twas not so very long ago,
and still too much today,
The victim of a cruel assault's
Unjustly On display.
A maiden merchild schooling home,
Was lured by sparkling light,
Inside the fronds of swaying kelp.
Her life became a fight.
A male of rank thought it his due
To take her virgin scale.
His hand around her slender neck
Made sure she couldn't wail.
He used his power to have his way,
To slake his greedy lust.
He took from her that special thing,
And made it hard to trust.
He left her, ravished, in the weeds,
Her tattered image raw.
No more pristine in her own mind,
Still she knew who she saw.
She left the copse of waving kelp,
Swam limpingly away.
Where once she moved with confidence,
She now appeared as prey.
She came upon her shoaling friends,
Who saw her sorry state.
Should she, proactive, tell or no,
The crux of hushed debate.
But if it's no, then he'll just go,
Not paying for his crime.
Emboldened by his freedom, he
Might escalate next time.
She felt she had to fill the gap,
To stop him in his tracks.
She'd bring his sin into the light,
No more dark hidden acts.
And so to Neptune's court they went
To speak before the crowd.
Her accusation clearly told
And his denial loud.
For his defense he hired the
Slickest Morey on the reef,
A ruthless creature, skilled of tongue,
Brought plaintiffs oft to grief.
He said, "Just look, her scales are tight,
Her red hair fed his lust.
He's anchored our society.
How can we now not trust?"
Her character was chewed upon,
Aspersions spewed like ink.
A second rape of her sweet soul,
What could the public think?
But through it all, she kept her cool,
She did not rant or rave.
When facing down his eely glare,
There was no sigh she's cave.
The godling king sat on his throne,
He knew his subjects well.
He's had his spies check both sides out,
The rest is his to tell.
The maiden mer was good and sweet,
Ask anyone at all.
Without the slightest thought of self,
She'd help should any call.
The rapist, though, was arrogant,
He'd not done wrong by her.
They'd not dog his image long,
As though a common cur.
But Neptune ruled, his trident sharp,
Excised a stinking cancer.
"Why did you bruise this lovely flower?"
For that he had no answer.
Richard Higley © March 2, 2014
