To be a prophetess of old
Marble shrines,
Gilded with whispers of praise
Bangles on arms
And ankles and throat
Empty eyes staring at walls
Lips murmuring nonsense
“It’s a gift from the gods.”
Tell that to Cassandra
Cursed by Apollo
Endowment turned liability
Tell that to every woman
Taken from her home, never to return
Sanity fractured
It is no mosaic of broken pieces
Tell that to us
Who see too much and
Understand too little
Every person blessed by the divine
Faces a life of struggles
It is no blessing, it is a downfall
This gift shows the end
Of the gods
And the reign of man
Destined, designed
By the Fates themselves
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