Queen
@GabriellaSivilla is weak and exhausted; she can barely lift herself up to breathe properly.
As her head leans for support on her left arm, the crown of mockery not only digs deeper in her temples but the sharp thorns break the delicate pale skin of her arms.
A new torture, but one which does not compare with what awaits her.
She barely notices the men getting ready with new instruments of torture with which to torment her naked, crucified body.
Oh – for me it is too cruel ! I don’t want to see those all brutal people with sharp forks, peaks, to whom somebody allowed to torment so much suffering Gabriella!
Let me briefly continue my description - as one of those who was watching this spectacle …
(and as always - please be patient with my English – those magnanimous who decided to read ...)
… I can see her staring at us ... as her gaze stops ... and she looks ... looks at me!
and I am as if paralyzed under her gaze ... ...
... and my legs are soft ... they are bending under me ... and I look at her from the ground, kneeling ... still in excitement ... voices around me ... crowd pushes ... someone comes in front of me, covers the view ...
… and I wake up ... I do not want to be here anymore ... I'm pushing myself again between people ... now I want to get away from here ... #649
.. it is not easy to get out of here, pushing through this dense crowd, staring at her, loud ...
but I manage to go and only individual people going in the opposite direction from where I leave
... and I walk down the road to the city ... a multitude of voices and a loud groan above, a woman's cry ... her voice high, she is heard far away... and I walk down to the city ... I go as if I was drunk, I stumble ... before my eyes still a picture with her on the cross .. the image of her body, writhing, trembling, crucified ... the image of her shaking breasts, red swollen nipples, her flat belly, navel, her womb ... the image of her face contorted with pain! ...
The heat of sun hits my head, but the gate of city and its shadow, close, thankfully... I lean my hands, I'm breathing hard ... and after a while I turn once again ... towards the crowd, where she, her pale body raised high, surrounded by a thick crowd ...
I enter the shadow in the gate ... nothing can be heard behind the wall ....
…
... at night I wake up every now and then ... the pictures of the day come back in the darkness ... the image of her face contorted with pain .. the image of her body ... is she still there? ... is he still there?! ...
I want to fall asleep, not to remember, but the images still come back ... her face, her eyes are looking at me, her carmine lips, semi-open mouth ... and she says softly, whispers to me:
tell my name … tell my name … Her eyes that met mine there ... and her lips whispering my name ... my name ??
I see the crowd ... these people's faces staring, laughing ... I look at them from above ...
I look and see from a distance the crosses of the place of execution ... by the vibrating air of the hot day ... cross with the naked body of a young man spread on it ..
.. thin, cut with flogging, body nailed to the high cross, ... inert, with a crown of shame and mockery on the head ... strangely familiar ...
And a board with an inscription over his lowered head becomes clearly visible ... and I see the inscription, the name of the criminal ... my name ... my name! …
Terrified, I break out of bed ... the night goes out ... soon it will ben dawn ...
