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Medusa’s Song

Medusa’s Song

I was cursed with beauty.

 

I wore it around my neck

like a millstone.

 

Before I was even

permitted to speak

They saw my beauty,

and spoke for me.

Re-making me

in their own image.

 

They say

my beauty

pulled him from the waves,

wet and cold.

 

He laughed when I said “no!”

When I ran,

he threw me

to the mud

and buried me

beneath him.

 

It was over

in a matter of minutes.

 

But in my mind

it never ends.

 

In my mind

He is always there,

massive and cruel

drowning me beneath his pain

his casual indifference.

 

When I raised my voice,

They shouted me down.

 

All but one.

 

Goddess of beauty, goddess of love.

She heard my cries.

She knows what it feels like

to be pinned

by wrists and ankles.

To bleed

on the inside.

 

“Make me strong,” I cried.

“Make them flee

before me.”

 

She did.

 

And she smiled as she worked

her magic.

A smile cold as a knife.

 

Now

when they come to rape me

 

I turn them all to stone.

* * * *

I don’t think this one needs any explanation.

Sculpture is Medusa by the Argentine-Italian artist based in Buenos Aires  Luciano Garbati.

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