Gaia awoke,

veiled in mist.

The hopeful dark waking and breathing.

world without Sky

world without Sea

world of water and light, rushing waves and spinning clouds.

 

Earth awoke, and opened the world 

Mountains crumbled out of the ground

her palms facing skyward.

The wide ocean learned the gut-deep pull of the moon,

and she followed too.

forest sprinted up from the shore, wind tugging through her hair, the gleam of fireflies in her eyes

Sanctuary of valley and wave remained in shadow, protected

from the almost-known-unknown they already knew to expect.

Night was a woman too, and for now that’s all there was:

Gaia, sovereign earth, mother of black-winged dreams

 

Then, like an intake of

breath, the first fingers of Sun’s rays announced themselves above the horizon,

mapping out Sky and Sea and earth. He 

claimed what he saw and what he touched. He

thought he was here first.

 

Rosy-fingered dawn, saffron-robed,

laughed at how she turned the mountains from grey to pink 

and the silver sea-spray turned gold

She is beautiful so she is happy

gold drips from her like sunbeams, she is noticed by the gods

She knows her daughter will be beautiful too

so she must be happy.

 

Father, son-of-another, also himself

trains his daughters to be beautiful to be dutiful, 

to be a muse - what is greater than the radiance of inspiration and the eye of 

a good man or a god.

As she radiates, she feels parts of herself slipping away, consumed as dawn mist by the sun

 

He knew the stuff his son was made of

and still let him roam the world.

 

Mother, wife-of-another, 

teaches her to be wise, to be sure to be careful and brave

not to lure the jealousy of a goddess – more dangerous than rage. 

and not to deny the gods

Your suffering, my child, shall teach your wisdom.

She tells her to resist the heart-deep pull of the wild outside until the world is kinder – 

Maybe tomorrow. 

 

Women learn quickly, and they learn young. 

The danger behind a smile, his laugh

a hand pressing into the small of her back.

 

Gods learn quickly, they are never young. 

Zeus knows he must be the swan, the dove, the bull,

the shower of gold

he knows his prey is becoming wise 

He wants to stay one step ahead

 

Aphrodite too, knows that the ache of glory in a hero’s chest conceals many sins

but the ache in hers must sleep 

and the hands that reached

the ghosts of fingertips and foreign breath would

speak for her instead.

they traced words on her skin and told her what she was 

 

Hecuba 

winds herself in black

child, give me your torch,

you do not hold it straight

you move so wildly

A pyre for her children burns at the shore

 

Helen of Sparta, and of Troy

Cursed by mothers for their fallen sons

Through man’s eyes she gets them in her power 

She ruins them

and ruins cities 

Those were the eyes her mother gave her

She had only tried to see.

 

blood-polluted Achilles demands honour for his tomb

A woman too much in love with life is 

a coward they remind her 

So she walks quietly, 

the honour must be given, and will be gladly

The infant city is brought to its knees

searching for salvation in the honour of three daughters.

Have pride in the deeds of your ancestors, ὦ Ἀθηναῖοι

The honour will be given,

Iphigenia sacrificed for a breeze

 

Artemis gazes upon her silvered grove, virgin ground where now the grass blades are 

bent and the sky smells of blood. Does the goddess weep with them? Did she fight for them? 

 

Artemis runs, 

her legs and arms bare

eyes bright and rushing

the wilderness beckons, where the grass remains unbent and sunlight will not catch the glint of gold on a helmet

the wild runs beside her, as she leads the men who she has turned to prey

 

Persephone

dances through a field of flowers

youth and grace flash at her ankles and from the beads in her hair.

But now there is an edge to her smile,

and you remember that flowers can carry poison

and that the rebirth of spring always follows death

 

Athena is born 

and Zeus believes he has created life.

A storm is coming

her eyes are grey and 

She names herself. 

 

Somewhere in their own infinities they know the power of creation within them

birthed of planets and of stars

can be burned away by the hand of a god

They tell her divine and woman cannot exist in the same flesh and 

she has to choose

The poets agree

Andromache 

lost her first family, so she made a new one

wove it together with royal silk and fragments of flashing bronze

She remembers his laughter, remembers how he listened

and the warm weight of their son in her arms

but then the ashes of Troy were floating around her.

In the aftermath of war those that remain may fade to flesh 

she can either sink or swim, but the weight of gold carries her down 

beneath the pale wide ocean, rippling like a veil 

until the currents are quieter and at least the Sun 

and everything under it

is distant, seen through miles of water

 

Cassandra

spear-point bride.

The god-of-all-ways gave a gift and

wanted his reward

fingers tighten and eyes grow fire as she asks for 

nothing

I have a scream I want the whole world to hear 

What is the word of a mad-girl against the word of a city

and its gods

Your sufferings, my child, have never taught you wisdom

The face of a marble statue gives little. 

it is cold

and her fingers slip

The mind of a hero has not changed for generations

 

Give your tears in place of wedding songs, god-inspired girl

 

Artemis, she-who-delights-in-arrows

She was the first born, but he was the first-born son

She was our protector, but she could not face those she failed to protect

A swift of silver to the throat was quick - they were already hunted.

This makes the heart beat faster, makes

the legs seize the air and turns arms to wings

She imagines herself airborne

She was the thrill of the chase, the god’s ragged laughter following her through the trees as he delighted in this new game

She imagined a face of leaves, her face, 

limbs coiling into branches that would not be held.

He was waiting for a misstep, a root grasping up from the ground, the sun bleaching her sight as 

for a moment 

she was, in fact, airborne.

But then would come the fall to the mossy ground

stones digging in,

she can look upon the sun but it does not warm her 

which god would listen when the life force of aeons flickers through their fingertips and the 

heat of the sun on their backs

beats out unsteadiness

and reminds them of the laws as they saw them - 

everything under the sun

everything under the sun

 

But when he reaches her, Gaia welcomes her home, 

for the first of us has her own laws.

 

As they have been written

these women are elusive

slipping modestly into the shadows

beauty at a distance 

making herself liquid when he approaches 

until he decides to claim her.

Daughters of wives, mothers of

life bringers,

the breath of new life consumes as the dawn mist is burned by the sun

The words written tell us fear.

Circe – goddess without the radiance of divinity

Medea – woman without the virtue of knowing when to back down

Maybe these men saw Athena’s anger 

the wrath of a goddess offended and chose Medusa as her victim

Seeing only her beauty turn to ashes,

soft lips twist into a snarl

not imagining why a woman might want to turn a man to stone

 

​