Helen's Lament

How Was I To Know? I only followed my heart, the dart of Cupid, that sparked a fire, the flaming awakening of desire, so long dead in this foundering union, with Menelaus, my spouse, who never could arouse my love. Not long before I knew adoration, the fascination of our nation, of men who saw in me a beauty I could never feel. Inside, a wild Aphrodite cried to live with passion, to be real. How was I to know that I'd be captive - mother, wife, compelled to give, to live for others, receiving wealth from kings and princes, but losing myself?

How was I to know that yearning for life, that touching my lips to Paris's lips would launch the ships, would cause such burning, death, loss, strife? How was I to know that if I fled, to soar the sky, breathe Aphrodite's air, and fly on Cupid's wings, that men would die? How was I to know that I'd be wooed, pursued, acclaimed, then later booed? That waking to Paris, to mutual gain, would bring such pain?

That what I lost when I left Greece would cost such a price, would brand me a whore, would cause such a war? How was I to know? How was I to know that to surrender to caring would render me victim to years of despairing, that to shun the ways of Spartan wives would mean that men would lose their lives? How was I to know I would feel such shame, receive such blame, and forever regret that I ever met young Paris of Troy? How was I to know?