Book III
Medusa walked along
the alabaster streets
of the ancient city.
The maid was returning
from ornate abode of
second Erechtheus.
The city’s king had held
a feast in her honor;
‘twas but cunning pretext
for opportunity
for him to gain favor
among those who would be
allies or foes to his
intrigues and ambitions.
Such occasion proved the
most opportune moment
for rich and powerful
men to attempt to catch
the sun kissed golden orbs
of fair Medusa’s sight.
The eyes of the priestess
held a spell over men
that held them still as stone.
To show their affections,
she had been showered in
gifts of fur and jewels.
As she wound her way back
to Athena’s temple,
she spoke aloud a thought,
“How long has it been since
I offered sacrifice?”
Medusa set aside
the worrying notion.
“State craft is noble work
of Lady Athena,”
she reassured herself.
Priestess rationalized
time among opulence.
“How better to hold sway
over those who would rule
than by heart’s enchantment?”
Old and infirm alike
went unnoticed by her
sight, no more than pebbles
along her pristine road.
Returned to her chambers,
Medusa looked upon
Athena’s gift to her.
Something in reflection
commanded attention.
Anxiously she approached.
There was a collection
of flakes on her forehead
and cheeks, but when she went
to wipe them away there
were none found on her hands.
Still the patches of scales
remained in reflection.
Medusa drew her face
closer and closer to
the shield to inquire.
Braided lock of her hair
rose up and hissed as though
a manner of serpent.
The breath had been stolen
out of Medusa’s lungs.
Given fright, she stumbled
backwards. Priestess laid prone.
Maiden knew to atone
for her growing follies.
On her knees she pleaded
for Athena’s mercy,
but her penitent words
were echoed by bitter
back biting of her thoughts.
“Why do you punish me
for my accomplishments?”
she hissed at her goddess.
Bubo screeched in reply.
Dark clouds covered the sky
and the thunder echoed.
Then Athena was there.
She hide away clenched teeth
behind stoic grimace.
But it was grey-blue eyes
that belied her fury.
Priestess trembled with fear,
Thanatos could be near.
Athena closed her eyes,
breathed deep, and found kind word.
“My dear child, Medusa,
be not seduced by ego.
Make victim of yourself
in your mind, forever
you are defined by it.
Make not the gods’ graces
into foul afflictions.”
“Forgive me, Athena!”
Medusa wept into
her goddess’ chiton.
Athena stroked her hair
and spoke in stern whisper,
“Do not be sorry. Learn.”
Thunder echoed again,
Athena had vanished,
and Medusa shaken.
She ran a hand across
her swollen, tear stained eyes
to find her makeup smudged.
Medusa reached up to
attend to it but stopped.
She took the silken gown,
which had been patron gift
of a stately suitor,
and cleaned her face with it.
Medusa leaned forward
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to observe reflection.
She retained blessed visage.
Medusa sighed relief.
For a time she did tend
well and true to her charge.
Yet enticing allure
of high station suitors
held much sway in her dreams.
Such is as the taste of
the most exquisite sweets.
The experience shall
linger on tip of tongue
and at forefront of thought.
Her patience for the work
had long since disappeared.
Though she could force herself
to say generous words
or adorn pleasant smiles,
Medusa could not bring
herself to bear witness
of divine spark within
their all too human souls.
One day she walked along
the Aegean’s’ shoreline.
There she met a stallion
of power and beauty.
The wondrous beast shimmered
with colors of the seas.
Medusa approached it
and stroked the beast’s vibrant
mane of cerulean.
The stallion whinnied with
delight at maiden’s touch.
The horse fiercely nuzzled
its face against hers till
Medusa had been shoved
to the sand as she laughed
at the antics of this
most peculiar beast.
The powerful equine
stood astride over her
as the ocean’s surf washed
over sublime figure.
Then a lightning bolt struck
surface of the ocean.
The stallion neighed in pain
as though it had been struck.
It staggered back into
the waves, which churned in kind.
Medusa rushed into
the water to offer
her comfort to the beast.
She lovingly held it
as she gently whispered
kind words to soothe its fear.
The animal gestured
for maiden to mount him,
and Medusa did so.
He galloped down the shore
as she rode him bareback.
Rhythmic thumping of his
strides stirred in her passions
that welcome attention
of one Aphrodite.
Medusa, embarrassed
and confounded by such
enticing emotion,
dismounted the stallion
and went to flee from it.
It had provoked in her
thoughts that invited a
temptation to break her
sacred chastity vow.
There was a reason why
maidens were priestess’
for virgin goddesses.
But before she could flee,
Medusa heard a voice,
“Don’t leave me without your
name, my beautiful girl.”
Medusa turned around
to find a rugged man
who radiated both
great power and danger.
Though awestruck by the sight,
Medusa was incensed
by her ego’s insult.
“Sir!” she angrily growled,
“How do you not know me?
I am none other than
exquisite Medusa,
Athena’s high priestess!
She who’s beauty is known
and coveted by kings
from across the world!”
In barren olive tree
Bubo kept careful watch
of unfolding events.
“Of course I know your name,”
the rugged stallion said,
“but I had to keep you
from fleeing before I
could share proclamation.
You underestimate
and do not overstate
the reverence commanded
by unequal beauty
you have been gifted with.
Girl, your idolaters
extend to the heavens.”
At those words, Poseidon
revealed his self in full
divine wonder and awe.
All thoughts of kings flew from
Medusa’s thoughts as she
had acquired a god.
Crying tears of sweet joy,
she rushed into his arms.
As she did so, he merged
again with the ocean.
Medusa laid herself
on the sand as the waves
worshipfully caressed
her serpentine body.
