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?