They call me goddess,
convincing and invincible,
armed with shield and spear.
They paint me golden,
crowned and crested helm,
child of Zeus alone.
No mother nor footprints to follow,
it is hard to know if this path is my own.
They tell me I am the daughter of wisdom.
But am I the only of the divine whose heart
is not full?
I hold the city to my chest
but have always measured loneliness
as the distance I am from myself.
They call me ****** of Athens.
Grateful for my olive tree,
they tell me I am
strong in will and mind;
no need for a lover.
But sometimes I wish Poseidon had
poisoned this city long ago,
for I cannot be Athena alone.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
They call me goddess,
convincing and invincible,
armed with shield and spear.
They paint me golden,
crowned and crested helm,
child of Zeus alone.
No mother nor footprints to follow,
it is hard to know if this path is my own.
They tell me I am the daughter of wisdom.
But am I the only of the divine whose heart
is not full?
I hold the city to my chest
but have always measured loneliness
as the distance I am from myself.
They call me ****** of Athens.
Grateful for my olive tree,
they tell me I am
strong in will and mind;
no need for a lover.
But sometimes I wish Poseidon had
poisoned this city long ago,
for I cannot be Athena alone.
persona poem
