Finis Poloniae— a phrase/figure of speech, that apart from its literal historical meaning stands in for the end of empires.
Charged atmosphere, everything breathes damply, epicene air—if it could think anything it would think un-European things like monsoons and yellow seas.
Greatness bears itself to death, says its last words to itself, a foreign-sounding swansong, generally misunderstood, sometimes tolerated—
Finis Poloniae— perhaps on a rainy day, bummer, but in this instance a sound of happiness followed by solo horn, and then a hydrangea, most placid of flowers, capable of standing out in the rain into November, dropped softly into the grave.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."