Eagle of Firenze

Midnight over rooftops of Firenze Laughter with my brothers turns to silence at dawn Ropes on the piazza, names swallowed by the crowd Giovanni, Federico, Petruccio—gone like a prayer cut shorter by the crowd A judge with gold on his tongue, Alberti weighed our fate Mother’s eyes turned to glass, the villa felt like stone Uncle Mario taught me steel and patience on these bones Leonardo tuning wings and hidden blades of home Feathers for a memory, blood for a vow I bled “Nothing is true,” I learned where the scaffold met the sky “Everything permitted,” when you choose how hearts must die Venice lights on water, Forlì storms in rain Foxes, thieves, and courtesans, a brotherhood from pain Rodrigo with a poison crown, the Apple in his hand A voice beyond the centuries speaking through a man Requiescat in pace—sing their names into the night Eagle doesn’t cry, but the sky remembers light I carry every shadow, every wound I could not save Requiescat in pace—let the rage become the brave Ezio, Ezio—steps soft on the stone Ezio, Ezio—heart heavier than Rome Cristina by the window—love I kept like contraband Letters never opened by the future we had planned Monteriggioni burning when Cesare drew near I rebuilt from ashes while I whispered to my fear Rome gave me daggers, but it asked to heal as well I freed a city’s heartbeat from a gilded papal shell Viana heard him falling—power breaks upon the wall And still the quiet afterward could drown me most of all Constantinople’s alleys, Yusuf laughing like the dawn Sofia with a book of keys, a future to lean on Altair in his library, a lesson carved in bone To lay the Apple down at last and walk away alone Requiescat in pace—sing their names into the night Eagle doesn’t cry, but the sky remembers light I carry every shadow, every wound I could not save Requiescat in pace—let the rage become the brave Years turned the blade to weathered silver in my hand I taught the young to breathe between the strike and stand If fate is a map, I traced it, folded, torn La morte vien piano—like a breeze through Tuscan corn Florence… Venezia… Roma… Costantinopoli… Names of every fallen like a rosary of stone Requiescat in pace—echo low and long Requiescat in pace—sing their names into the night Eagle doesn’t cry, but the sky remembers light I carry every shadow, every wound I could not save Requiescat in pace—let the rage become the brave Requiescat in pace—let a tired heart be free Requiescat in pace—leave the blade, remember me A bench in the sunlight, one last breath of spring The Eagle folds his wings while the children laugh and sing