Medea
by monsterofthesea
Medea
I have taken up gardening
as a hobby, not anymore a profession.
These plants bear flowers,
not poison. Beyond my patch of land is the sea.
I watch the sun go down each night
and I remember the gods
and their goodness.
Mornings, I dress,
cook eggs, toast bread and read
the newspaper. I cut out
interesting headlines like,
“Woman charged for murder.”
I stick them on the refrigerator
and wait for sirens
wailing from a distance.
But it has been years
since I saw white sails
against black sea.
You came to me one day,
unshaven and red
from the sun. I thought that
the heavens
have sent you to me.
But I was not your purpose
here. I was
only incidental.
I want to ask you,
“What is courage?”
It is not you, or your ship of heroes.
It is not your fondness for danger.
Courage is driving a knife
through our children’s throats
knowing they will have no room
in your world.
The gods play no part in this story.
