For Athena Never Did Care for Friend or Foe
A Love for Medusa
A Poem by T N Teague
They say once, she was beautiful,
Medusa… Goddess… Gorgon…
Her hair, a waterfall of midnight silk,
Her eyes,
Deep as the ocean, reflecting the silvered moon.
But beauty, in the hands of gods, is a fragile thing.
For Athena never did care for friend or foe.
A tale twisted by time,
Punishment, they say,
For desecrating a sacred temple,
Or was it the seething jealousy of a goddess?
But what is truth in the myths of men,
When stories are written by the victors?
For Athena never did care for friend or foe.
Turned to stone,
The world saw a monster,
Where once stood a woman.
Her gaze, a weapon, her beauty, a curse,
She learned the solitude of power.
For Athena never did care for friend or foe.
She walks the night now, unafraid,
No longer prey on darkened streets,
But a predator.
No hand would dare touch her,
No voice would dare taunt her,
Fearful of her eyes,
Those piercing eyes that freeze the soul.
For Athena never did care for friend or foe.
Yet in her cave,
Damp, echoing with the drip of water,
Alone,
She feels the weight of her power,
A prison made of fear and stone.
The world cast her out,
For a woman could never be accepted as a weapon.
For Athena never did care for friend or foe.
Is it a gift, this power, or a curse?
To be untouchable, unbreakable, yet forever alone.
She is both shield and sword,
Protector and monster,
Woman and myth.
For Power has always come at a price,
Those who wield it walk a path both dark and light,
Forever banished to the fringes,
Where gods play with fate,
And mortals tremble.
For Athena never did care for friend or foe.