By: Ethan Rampersaud
Photo Credit: Creative Commons
I had admonished him,
Admonished him well,
Of the event of his doom and demise.
“Beware the ides of March,” I told great Caesar,
But he ignored this warning,
Calling me a dreamer,
Calpurnia, once a skeptic,
Now wanted to save her husband,
From a future, quenched in his blood and chaos,
But she too was denied as a dreamer,
With bravado, Caesar approaches me,
“The ides of March I come.”
I remain firm with my belief.
“Ay, Caesar, but not gone.”
Artemidorus implores to the great Caesar,
Seeking his letter to be read,
But he is denied this right,
By Caesar and fellow senators,
Denied as a dreamer,
Caesar begins to watch,
As his senators go against him,
And Casca crows his cry,
“Speak, hands, for me!”
From Casca to Brutus,
Every stab a pain to his body and heart,
To his dear friend Brutus,
“Et tu, Brute?”
To the people of Rome,
Brutus spoke with misdirected patriotism,
And Antony spoke of Caesar with heroism and honor,
And his words riled Rome.
Cassius the leader,
And his adjutant Brutus,
Flee from Rome,
And takes their evil spirits with them.
Brutus, in a vision,
Sees the evil spirit,
Who tells him he shall see him,
On the fields of Philippi.
On the fields of Philippi,
The armies of Octavius and Antony,
Vanquish the armies of Brutus and Cassius.
The evil spirit finds Brutus,
And takes the sword held by Strato,
Into his body and soul,
Killing him, the spirit with him.
When a friend told me the news,
I felt smug and sorrow,
Knowing that the day would come,
When a respected leader would fall.