His Holy Empire


At the heart of sacred grounds, a shaft of ivory rises
and reigns atop a throne of clouds, where veil of white disguises
a wilting rose, a potted plant; did Gaea plan her fate?
Behind the stained-glass window's view, Joanna meekly waits.


Act 1: Poor Joanna

Twirling her hair idly, Joanna looked up out the window and sighed.
"I've wistfully waited so long for you to come home and save me… Save me from wondering and wandering too far alone." She slumped into her seat. Life was so unfair.

Despite her attempts to resist, Joanna soon quietly submitted to gravity's pull on her drooping eyelids. Just as a smile began to waltz across her face, she was violently jolted upwards by a surge of adrenaline. She instinctively buried her disfigured hand into her abdomen as her eyes darted about the unkempt room and over her unfulfilled duties. She suddenly found herself in front of her dresser's mirror and watched as her shaking hands dug through piles of cheap jewelry and stuffed animals, indiscriminately tossing the toys onto the floor. Finally, her hands found what she had been searching for. Her reflection smiled back as she ritually lifted her brush and began to make herself up.

She hated how her face looked without makeup; she had grown to believe it seemed strange if it wasn't shiny and exotically colored. Each layer concealed her blemishes and bruises so well that she sometimes forgot they were there at all. But now, no matter how desperately she painted, the comfort wouldn't come! She loathed what she saw! Joanna winced away from her tear-streaked reflection.

"Why am I so…"


Act 2: Echoes of Solomon

But she couldn't will the words; she didn't even know what it was that she needed to ask. Joanna felt conflicted and unsure as she was barraged by the jostling images that filled her head. She felt so queer when she had offered to shake his hand instead of immediately taking his arm, as was customary when a bride-to-be first meets the man she's been arranged to marry… so ugly when she noticed that every woman at the wedding was wearing makeup except for her… so damnably rude when, after he had ordered the musicians to play a minuet, she had interrupted them a second time to request a waltz… so ashamed when she had danced with such wild, voluptuous abandon… so horrifically guilty when he stumbled, when she made him grab her hand so forcefully that bones snapped as he dragged her out and scolded her for embarrassing him… so naïve to believe that she could think for herself… so overwhelmingly worthless for failing to meet his expectations?

She hated her desire to dance. She hated her desire to eat. She hated that she was miserable, even though she had done everything that they had promised would make her happy. What was she doing wrong?! She cried, "Why? Why am I…" and collapsed. Joanna's walls crumbled as she let herself be swept away by the rivers of repressed sorrow that welled from her heart. Feeling drained and strangely lighter, she found the will to face her reflection.

"I've been so strong since Saint George has been gone. He'd be proud, I'm filled with prayer instead of fruit!" Joanna was caught off guard by her reflection's sudden scowl. "But the days have grown into weeks unknown… I'm feeling frail, what's a damsel to do?" Joanna turned and looked out around the cell as though for the first time. Her probing fingers disturbed the dust-coated bookshelf as she helped herself up and stretched toward the window's ancient, forbidden latch. She threw open the gates of her perception and leaned out to observe the wilderness through wisps of clouds. Her hair flowed freely in the wind and her eyes beamed like the sun.


Act 3: When Adam Delved and Eve Span

Joanna looked up in a familiar way and said, "Tell me: Who governs the trees beyond the courtyard? Ease me; why are the leaves conceived to fall?" Joanna's trembling knees finally buckled as she cried, "Bear me! I can't stand when all I have are unanswered questions. You left me helpless! Won't you please lead me?"

Joanna tried to get back on her feet, but sickly fell to her knees in a fit of coughing. She looked down at a wooden cross that was framed by the purple of her most luxurious pillow and said, "He taught me what happens when little lambs go astray; with no rod to guide them, they'll find themselves prey. I'm too afraid to leave, though no lock bars my way. He bade me love the leash. In lord's courtyard, I'll obey."

Joanna reeled deliriously as she rose to her feet to be bathed in the growing light from the window. She reached out with a bony finger to touch one of the cherubim that were lacing the window with golden embroidery, but her hand passed through as though nothing was there. Joanna didn't seem to mind. She looked up and said, "I've wishfully waited so long for you to come down and save me… Save me from wondering and wandering too far alone."

As she smiled and dreamt of dancing on clouds, Joanna laid down and died.