People say when they look at you,

They see their idea of beautiful,

Or someone they love,

But when I look at you,

All I want to see,

Is myself.

Never tell a goddess her fate,

And says it is written in,

The eternal bodies of the stars.

 

She will crush,

She will burn,

Tear,

And destroy,

Because don’t we want,

To write our own destinies,

And forge our own paths,

Across the night sky?

Medusa I’m sorry,

For the pain he caused you,

When he broke your heart.

 

Your beauty was known and awe-inspiring,

But it came at a price,

You were too tired to bear.

 

But when Athena,

Gave you her gift,

Not only did you mourn,

You hated.

 

You hated all man,

Because you thought they were all,

The same,

And you hated all women,

For being happy with beauty,

You once had,

And for them,

Not seeing the price,

Beauty asked of you.

This is what they didn’t tell you:

 

That while Icarus fell,

He laughed.

 

He leaned his head back,

And laughed,

As he felt the hot wax,

Melt onto his legs,

And forearms.

 

He laughed,

Because in the end,

The tower could not have held him,

Spirit,

Body,

Or soul,

 

Because Icarus was a thing of sun and air, and you can’t trap that.

I’m sorry world but I think it’s best I leave,

Back to the place that always felt like home,

Where the memories of fonder times,

Echo by the seashore,

Dance among the trees,

Twist around towers,

And live inside the earth.

 

(Inspired by Susan from Narnia.)

Your name was Atlas,

Which meant moon of Saturn,

And you were,

Un-earthly.

 

You offered to take me away,

From the land of pain and suffering,

But you didn’t seem to see,

That this place was home to me.

 

It had bad things,

Wonderus things,

And horribly good things.

 

It had awful things,

And miserable moments.

 

But it is home.

 

The cosmos’ stars might be beautiful,

And the view fantastic,

But I could not survive.

 

I am an earth-thing,

Born of oxygen and air,

And Atlas,

Who are you to take me away,

From the world that made me?

 

 

(For Phillip Sidney)

 

His name was Astrophil,

Which meant star-lover,

And he had fallen for a girl,

Whose name was Stella,

The word for star.

 

If the universes had twisted,

And the cosmos rearranged,

Then maybe things would have,

Turned out differently.

 

He was named Atrophil,

And she was named Stella.

 

So Stella,

Was the star of love.

There is no poetry,

That tells of history,

That was never put,

In any history book,

Until now.

About the crazy,

And brave women,

Who moved our country forward.

The ones who crossed enemy lines,

With faulty planes,

Dropped bombs,

And were gone into the night,

Like witches.

Over 200 missions,

And flights.

So when you ask me,

What I want to be like,

I won’t say,

Cinderella,

Or a happily-ever after,

No,

I will say that I wish I could be,

As brave and courageous,

As the night witches.

 

 

 

I would call you Atlas,

For the heavens,

And stars I see,

In the clear blue of your eyes,

But Atlas,

Was not given the choice,

If he wanted to bear,

The weight of the cosmos,

And Heavens,

But you were.

You did not hesitate,

Because for you,

Holding the sky was easy,

If it meant,

That she could breathe.