A swan made love to me,
a god fucked me; was
I seduced, was I ravished,
raped on that riverbank?
You tell it in so many
ways, I a willing maiden
embracing a magnificent
god made into strange flesh,
and I, a victim taken
violently by a beast
driven by an alien mind,
to weave the future
into flesh in my womb,
whether I opened my legs
or whether they were
pulled apart, bloody.
Let us say I fought hard,
that I didn't resist, that
I welcomed it. Those wings
beating above me,
that future placed
into me, growing inside
me. All that was to come -
does it matter, now?
I had no choice,
whatever choice
I was to make, made,
preordained.
The future is set, the past
is what you make of it,
of me forever under those
beating wings of the swan.
My life was never mine.
My life belonged to my family,
the husband they chose for me,
the gods we worshipped,
to the god in the guise of a swan
who swam across the river to me.
And now it belongs to you, and I
now under your beating wings.
07.05.2024
#Poem Poem #Poems Poems #Poetry Poetry #Verse Verse
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