She appears confused
standing at the water’s edge

waves teasing her ankles
voices from beneath the water

telling her to assemble an army—
perhaps she will gather children 

with buckets and plastic shovels 
constructing castles with tremendous 

battlements and red and blue flags
white towels and bathing suits—

Becoming aware of families
spread out in uneven circles

up and down the beach
picnic baskets, coolers, umbrellas

God’s voice itself piercing
her like a bad sunburn,

dizzy with the heat 
and glare off the surf, 

she dreams of battles
the betrayal of kings and popes—

perhaps she thought she could trace
Alexander’s army to India.

That cloud overhead shaped 
like the Simurgh of ancient Persia

a gigantic bird with the head 
of a dog, claws of a lion 
 
and a human face, 
not unlike the angels

who surrounded her
as she burned at the stake,

remembering her past, life
and death, falling stupefied

back onto the sand—
her head held back

as if looking into the planetarium
of the past, the sky somehow

the same, the leap of flame
the burn of the stars.