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Sep. 12th, 2009
Stumbled across some May Sarton.
Sep. 12th, 2009 04:07 pmTHE MUSE AS MEDUSA
I saw you once, Medusa; we were alone.
I looked you straight in the cold eye, cold.
I was not punished, was not turned to stone.
How to believe the legends I am told?
I came as naked as any little fish,
Prepared to be hooked, gutted, caught.
And I saw you, Medusa, made my wish,
And when I left you I was clothed in thought.
Being allowed, perhaps, to swim my way
Through the great deep and on the rising tide,
Flashing wild streams as free and rich as they
Though you had power marshaled on your side.
The fish escaped to many a magic reef;
The fish explored many a dangerous sea.
The fish, Medusa, did not come to grief
But swims still in a fluid mystery.
Forget the image: your silence is my ocean,
And even now it teems with life. You chose
To abdicate by total lack of motion,
But did it work? For nothing really froze.
It is all fluid still, that world of feeling,
Where thoughts, those fishes, silent, feed and rove,
And fluid is also full of healing,
For love is healing--even ruthless love.
I turn your face around! It is my face.
That frozen rage is what I must explore.
Oh secret, self-enclosed, and ravaged place!
This is the gift I thank Medusa for.
If we go with the version of Medusa's origin that seems to dominate (that Poseidon raped her in Athena's temple, and so Athena punished Medusa), then she becomes a really sad figure. Still. Being treated unjustly on multiple fronts gives some one-time victims a destructive power that people can't understand who haven't been handed the means to pass on their pain to others. Medusa was wronged by a man, and wronged again with a curse from another woman. But that curse gave her the power to turn anybody to stone who got close to her ever again.
It protected her, but if she couldn't stop herself... well... it is a curse to be unable to lay down your weapons, isn't it?
Not much more going on than me finding a poem and not wanting to lose it. I'm not a big reader of poetry anymore, though I used to enjoy it. I'm not thinking as deeply about this poem as I ought to, but maybe if I don't lose it...
I saw you once, Medusa; we were alone.
I looked you straight in the cold eye, cold.
I was not punished, was not turned to stone.
How to believe the legends I am told?
I came as naked as any little fish,
Prepared to be hooked, gutted, caught.
And I saw you, Medusa, made my wish,
And when I left you I was clothed in thought.
Being allowed, perhaps, to swim my way
Through the great deep and on the rising tide,
Flashing wild streams as free and rich as they
Though you had power marshaled on your side.
The fish escaped to many a magic reef;
The fish explored many a dangerous sea.
The fish, Medusa, did not come to grief
But swims still in a fluid mystery.
Forget the image: your silence is my ocean,
And even now it teems with life. You chose
To abdicate by total lack of motion,
But did it work? For nothing really froze.
It is all fluid still, that world of feeling,
Where thoughts, those fishes, silent, feed and rove,
And fluid is also full of healing,
For love is healing--even ruthless love.
I turn your face around! It is my face.
That frozen rage is what I must explore.
Oh secret, self-enclosed, and ravaged place!
This is the gift I thank Medusa for.
If we go with the version of Medusa's origin that seems to dominate (that Poseidon raped her in Athena's temple, and so Athena punished Medusa), then she becomes a really sad figure. Still. Being treated unjustly on multiple fronts gives some one-time victims a destructive power that people can't understand who haven't been handed the means to pass on their pain to others. Medusa was wronged by a man, and wronged again with a curse from another woman. But that curse gave her the power to turn anybody to stone who got close to her ever again.
It protected her, but if she couldn't stop herself... well... it is a curse to be unable to lay down your weapons, isn't it?
Not much more going on than me finding a poem and not wanting to lose it. I'm not a big reader of poetry anymore, though I used to enjoy it. I'm not thinking as deeply about this poem as I ought to, but maybe if I don't lose it...
Stumbled across some May Sarton.
Sep. 12th, 2009 04:07 pmTHE MUSE AS MEDUSA
I saw you once, Medusa; we were alone.
I looked you straight in the cold eye, cold.
I was not punished, was not turned to stone.
How to believe the legends I am told?
I came as naked as any little fish,
Prepared to be hooked, gutted, caught.
And I saw you, Medusa, made my wish,
And when I left you I was clothed in thought.
Being allowed, perhaps, to swim my way
Through the great deep and on the rising tide,
Flashing wild streams as free and rich as they
Though you had power marshaled on your side.
The fish escaped to many a magic reef;
The fish explored many a dangerous sea.
The fish, Medusa, did not come to grief
But swims still in a fluid mystery.
Forget the image: your silence is my ocean,
And even now it teems with life. You chose
To abdicate by total lack of motion,
But did it work? For nothing really froze.
It is all fluid still, that world of feeling,
Where thoughts, those fishes, silent, feed and rove,
And fluid is also full of healing,
For love is healing--even ruthless love.
I turn your face around! It is my face.
That frozen rage is what I must explore.
Oh secret, self-enclosed, and ravaged place!
This is the gift I thank Medusa for.
If we go with the version of Medusa's origin that seems to dominate (that Poseidon raped her in Athena's temple, and so Athena punished Medusa), then she becomes a really sad figure. Still. Being treated unjustly on multiple fronts gives some one-time victims a destructive power that people can't understand who haven't been handed the means to pass on their pain to others. Medusa was wronged by a man, and wronged again with a curse from another woman. But that curse gave her the power to turn anybody to stone who got close to her ever again.
It protected her, but if she couldn't stop herself... well... it is a curse to be unable to lay down your weapons, isn't it?
Not much more going on than me finding a poem and not wanting to lose it. I'm not a big reader of poetry anymore, though I used to enjoy it. I'm not thinking as deeply about this poem as I ought to, but maybe if I don't lose it...
I saw you once, Medusa; we were alone.
I looked you straight in the cold eye, cold.
I was not punished, was not turned to stone.
How to believe the legends I am told?
I came as naked as any little fish,
Prepared to be hooked, gutted, caught.
And I saw you, Medusa, made my wish,
And when I left you I was clothed in thought.
Being allowed, perhaps, to swim my way
Through the great deep and on the rising tide,
Flashing wild streams as free and rich as they
Though you had power marshaled on your side.
The fish escaped to many a magic reef;
The fish explored many a dangerous sea.
The fish, Medusa, did not come to grief
But swims still in a fluid mystery.
Forget the image: your silence is my ocean,
And even now it teems with life. You chose
To abdicate by total lack of motion,
But did it work? For nothing really froze.
It is all fluid still, that world of feeling,
Where thoughts, those fishes, silent, feed and rove,
And fluid is also full of healing,
For love is healing--even ruthless love.
I turn your face around! It is my face.
That frozen rage is what I must explore.
Oh secret, self-enclosed, and ravaged place!
This is the gift I thank Medusa for.
If we go with the version of Medusa's origin that seems to dominate (that Poseidon raped her in Athena's temple, and so Athena punished Medusa), then she becomes a really sad figure. Still. Being treated unjustly on multiple fronts gives some one-time victims a destructive power that people can't understand who haven't been handed the means to pass on their pain to others. Medusa was wronged by a man, and wronged again with a curse from another woman. But that curse gave her the power to turn anybody to stone who got close to her ever again.
It protected her, but if she couldn't stop herself... well... it is a curse to be unable to lay down your weapons, isn't it?
Not much more going on than me finding a poem and not wanting to lose it. I'm not a big reader of poetry anymore, though I used to enjoy it. I'm not thinking as deeply about this poem as I ought to, but maybe if I don't lose it...
Stumbled across some May Sarton.
Sep. 12th, 2009 04:07 pmTHE MUSE AS MEDUSA
I saw you once, Medusa; we were alone.
I looked you straight in the cold eye, cold.
I was not punished, was not turned to stone.
How to believe the legends I am told?
I came as naked as any little fish,
Prepared to be hooked, gutted, caught.
And I saw you, Medusa, made my wish,
And when I left you I was clothed in thought.
Being allowed, perhaps, to swim my way
Through the great deep and on the rising tide,
Flashing wild streams as free and rich as they
Though you had power marshaled on your side.
The fish escaped to many a magic reef;
The fish explored many a dangerous sea.
The fish, Medusa, did not come to grief
But swims still in a fluid mystery.
Forget the image: your silence is my ocean,
And even now it teems with life. You chose
To abdicate by total lack of motion,
But did it work? For nothing really froze.
It is all fluid still, that world of feeling,
Where thoughts, those fishes, silent, feed and rove,
And fluid is also full of healing,
For love is healing--even ruthless love.
I turn your face around! It is my face.
That frozen rage is what I must explore.
Oh secret, self-enclosed, and ravaged place!
This is the gift I thank Medusa for.
If we go with the version of Medusa's origin that seems to dominate (that Poseidon raped her in Athena's temple, and so Athena punished Medusa), then she becomes a really sad figure. Still. Being treated unjustly on multiple fronts gives some one-time victims a destructive power that people can't understand who haven't been handed the means to pass on their pain to others. Medusa was wronged by a man, and wronged again with a curse from another woman. But that curse gave her the power to turn anybody to stone who got close to her ever again.
It protected her, but if she couldn't stop herself... well... it is a curse to be unable to lay down your weapons, isn't it?
Not much more going on than me finding a poem and not wanting to lose it. I'm not a big reader of poetry anymore, though I used to enjoy it. I'm not thinking as deeply about this poem as I ought to, but maybe if I don't lose it...
I saw you once, Medusa; we were alone.
I looked you straight in the cold eye, cold.
I was not punished, was not turned to stone.
How to believe the legends I am told?
I came as naked as any little fish,
Prepared to be hooked, gutted, caught.
And I saw you, Medusa, made my wish,
And when I left you I was clothed in thought.
Being allowed, perhaps, to swim my way
Through the great deep and on the rising tide,
Flashing wild streams as free and rich as they
Though you had power marshaled on your side.
The fish escaped to many a magic reef;
The fish explored many a dangerous sea.
The fish, Medusa, did not come to grief
But swims still in a fluid mystery.
Forget the image: your silence is my ocean,
And even now it teems with life. You chose
To abdicate by total lack of motion,
But did it work? For nothing really froze.
It is all fluid still, that world of feeling,
Where thoughts, those fishes, silent, feed and rove,
And fluid is also full of healing,
For love is healing--even ruthless love.
I turn your face around! It is my face.
That frozen rage is what I must explore.
Oh secret, self-enclosed, and ravaged place!
This is the gift I thank Medusa for.
If we go with the version of Medusa's origin that seems to dominate (that Poseidon raped her in Athena's temple, and so Athena punished Medusa), then she becomes a really sad figure. Still. Being treated unjustly on multiple fronts gives some one-time victims a destructive power that people can't understand who haven't been handed the means to pass on their pain to others. Medusa was wronged by a man, and wronged again with a curse from another woman. But that curse gave her the power to turn anybody to stone who got close to her ever again.
It protected her, but if she couldn't stop herself... well... it is a curse to be unable to lay down your weapons, isn't it?
Not much more going on than me finding a poem and not wanting to lose it. I'm not a big reader of poetry anymore, though I used to enjoy it. I'm not thinking as deeply about this poem as I ought to, but maybe if I don't lose it...