The Thief (a poem)

This was inspired by my discussion with Marie. But it goes in a direction all its own. 

 

The Thief 

When she was young, the girl went to a soothsayer, 

Watched as the grandmother laid out her cards. 

"This is your destiny, Seven of Daggers, 

You'll profit from treachery, subterfuge, theft." 

The girl joined the Crypteia, stealing to feed herself; 

Pillaging with the boys, binding her breasts; 

Bathing alone in the freezing-cold Eurotas; 

Never undressing and hiding her sex. 

Then she enrolled in a college for cutpurses, 

Studied from masters the Art of the Steal, 

Learned to abscond with whole civilizations 

And thieving from those who had stolen before. 

_____ 

One day she sat herself down for a reckoning, 

"Is this what I want for the rest of my life?" 

Turning away from her thieving and hiding, 

She made a new life herself, planting and growing things. 

But still in the back of her mind she heard echoing, 

Words that the soothsayer spoke long ago: 

"This is your destiny, Seven of Daggers, 

You'll profit from treachery, subterfuge, theft." 

And truly, the growing things brought her no profits, 

But left her to scratch out a living in sweat. 

She had the respect of her friends and herself too.

But mere self-respect doesn't pay any bills.

_____

And so at great length she would catch herself wondering,

“How it would be if I went back to theft?

What if I stole just from those who had stolen

In their turn patrimonies from the whole world?

The Grand and the Mighty, the Men of Great Letters,

The Noble and Honorable, Reverend and Just.”

Silently mulling, she picked out her quarry,

Plotting her plunder and mapping her way.

But even while pondering plunder and vengeance,

She could not abandon her garden for long.

Her plantings depended on her for their nurture;

And so she set forth, just at night, all alone.

_____

First to the Poet’s grand villa she traveled,

Slipped into his gardens, spoke peace to his trees.

Finding a window left open, she entered

And silently looted prosodical gold.

In the Historian’s commodious townhouse,

The Statesman and Jurist were playing at craps.

They laughed in their whiskeys. The dice rattled loudly.

She took their three purses and vanished in night.

Round the Museum the guardians were many,

The sensors were active, alarms were all set.

And so in the daytime the girl joined a tour group.

She studied the floor plan and checked all the doors.

At night, though, the cleaners came in with their vacuums,

Disabled the sensors, turned off the alarms.

The girl climbed a ladder, slipped into a window;

When no one was looking, made off with her prize.

_____

Then last she came round to the rooms of the Magus,

Soundlessly testing the lock on the door.

When—all unexpected—the Magus threw open

The door, and then sharply inquired, “Who are you?”

The girl, she said nothing. The Magus looked closer.

He saw in her face where her destiny led.

Seven of Daggers. So treachery, subterfuge.

Love for all growing things. Profit from theft.

“Here, then. Take this from me: Mercury’s talisman.

He’s the protector of thieves and of rogues.

But also he can (if he will) grant the mastery,

Now and hereafter of Hermetic Arts.

If you gain mastery, then you will profit.

You won’t need to steal or to hide any more.

Then you can spend all your time with your garden,

Just bringing forth living things fresh from the soil.”

The girl took the talisman back to her little rooms,

Studying deeply the arts it contained.

Mastery came slowly: molasses in January.

But every year she was inches ahead.

_____

That’s how she lived, with her loot and her learning,

Her garden and books and the riches she stole.

In time she stopped stealing, because through her studies

She made her own riches now, second to none.

Seen from the outside, her life still looked modest.

But she and her garden were well and at peace.

2022-11-28