Medusa's Woe: Athena's Bitter Grace Poem by Mason Carter

I bowed to thee, O thou lady cold,
In shadows deep, my heart untold—
With trembling hands, I clasped thy name,
A mortal lost in love's sweet flame.
But thou, so high, so far above,
Didst turn thine eyes away from love—
When Poseidon came, with vile intent,
Thou didst not lift thy hand, nor vent.
If thou art power, if thou art might,
Why didst thou not stop that cruel night?
Why let him reign with vile decree,
And break a heart that worshiped thee?
In thy great halls, where lords do tread,
Did not thy wrath, so fierce, be said?
Yet still, my cries did go unheard,
While he defiled me with a word.
O Athena, thou who reigns above,
Couldst thou not rise to guard my love?
But no, thy power, so cold and high,
Could not prevent the rape, the lie.
It was not I who chose this fate,
But thou didst watch and seal my state—
A curse, a monster born from pain,
While lords did sit, unmoved by rain.
Thy power shines, it burns the weak,
But when the mighty harm, you speak—
Not one word passes from thy lips,
As you adorn the world in whips.
A lord's wrath is but a fleeting spark,
A lady's ire, a shadow's mark,
But when the weary need thy grace,
You turn away, and leave no trace.
If lords so strong, so great and fair,
Can watch the weak in dark despair,
Then what is power, but a game,
To curse the soul, to feed the flame?
O Athena, thou didst leave me here,
To crawl beneath thy cruelest fear.
My beauty turned to serpent's cry,
While thou didst watch, and pass me by.
If power's worth is truth be told,
Then why dost thou not guard the bold?
But rather, let the mighty sin,
And leave the frail to suffer within.
And so I stand, a thing of stone,
No voice, no hope, no place to own—
For lords like thee, with hearts so cold,
Find joy in watching us unfold.
Now hear me, lady, hear me now,
For I have lived without thy vow—
Your power, useless, when it's shown,
To smite the weak, but leave them lone.
In silence, I shall walk and weep,
A Gorgon lost, a soul to keep—
And know this truth, Athena's grace,
Was made to curse, not heal, or trace.

— from 'Gothic Poems to Love & Liberty
A Collection of Poems on Myths & Broken Hearts'