Sophia

Before martyrdom
you were Roman nobility – mother
of three daughters burnt, boiled
beheaded by Hadrian's underlings
in the name of the goddess – Artemis.

Before motherhood
you were a father's dowry – wife
in stola with wide-plaited hem
and gold embroidered sandals –
perpetually pregnant to a husband
three times your age
who died without an heir.

Before wifehood
you were betrothed – maiden
from the hills of Rome.
Your father's vineyard –
a playground –
the ooze and musket smell
of fallen grapes imprinted
deep in the frictions
on your fingers.

Before maidenhood – a girl
with curls – waist long –
educated by a devout mother.
Paul's virtues fixed like a bolt
on your third eye.
Never to be a citizen of this world.
Never to write your own Laws.

Helen Koukoutsis lives in Sydney, Australia and teaches literature at Western Sydney University. She juggles her time between research, marking, and writing poetry. Her poems have appeared online and in print at Eureka Street, Nebu[lab], Buddhist Poetry Review, Poetrix, and Studio: A Journal of Christians Writing.