I wanted to share a poem written over the past couple of weeks, Athena. I struggled a lot with this poem and can see from the document that it has been through at least six slightly-different iterations. In truth I’m still not sure I’m happy with it. I’m sharing it here as I feel it is the output of an honest process, and that there is something here which others may enjoy.
As usual, I am curious to hear what you think of it — please, if you have the time, do take a moment to leave your thoughts in the comments below. It’s the readership which makes the effort of poetry worthwhile.
Athena takes as its starting point the myth of the goddess Athena. Legend has it that Athena sprang fully-formed from Zeus’ skull. I reimagined that history here as the birth of Athena, a goddess, coming about in the moment of a god-father’s destruction. In particular I was drawn to the idea of the head — the seat of reason, in the classical arts a masculine pursuit — being ruined, plundered by a victorious goddess who herself was to be the guardian of wisdom, the white owl piercing through the dark.1
I hope you enjoy today’s poem. Please let me know, either via the comments or elsewhere online, if you do. I’ve also included an audio clip of myself reading the poem, if that’s how you prefer to consume your poetry.
ATHENA I gave my father a headache. He was the god of gods. Was it obvious I had been crying? I disappeared inside of myself, the temples rang with portents of my coming. Priests threw incense into the streets, the markets shuttered. And nobody had seen the Oracle for days. I loved my father but I had to hurt him so he would know I was there. He was the god of gods and I had no choice. All of the minor gods loved him too. Nobody knew what to do about me. My father was a ripe fruit filling with me. If I existed I knew it was to teach him, an immortal, what it was like to be split, an offering. And so I became a goddess: I had no choice. Zeus’ brains were to be my entrails, his skull desecrated. And I was to carry what was left over of him, and make of my father my voice.
Athena is also associated with warfare, and is often depicted holding a spear and a shield.
You've captured beautifully the tensions in familial relationships (as I understood it, apologies if that's not the intent) and the melancholy of establishing one's identity, I feel.