Monteczuma

I have bathed again, the water rich

In frothy copalxocotl, I am made clean.

As I dress, I am informed that there are representatives

from a king across the sea approaching our city.

From my palace I can see the glints of sunlight

coming off of their metal clothing-standing among them

are huge beasts which prance on four legs.

I gather together my chiefs and bodyguards and

we parade down the boulevard to meet these strangers.

Upon the head of the leader we placed my headdress,

to mollify them with pleasantries and polite offers of food

and a place to stay among the nobility.

Omens have hung heavy in the air, like the miasma

stench of the Spanish which has filled my home.

A priest tells me that the leader, this Cortez, is

like unto a god, though I am not so sure.

Perhaps judgment is here at the tying of the years,

the end of my reign writ in blood.

Events have moved so fast, the Spanish telling me

to control my people-but they do not understand our ways

I am powerless. Their greed, their hate, they defile

our temples and care not for the Gods because they

are represented in stone… these men who worship

little wooden crosses!

I am ashamed at how little I can do.

I wait to watch Tenochtitlan fall under siege.

I wait for the end.