Children are to be seen and not heard
Women no different
Guilted into a life of celibacy
Of abstinence from all
Lest we be ostracized
By the gods and men
An anathema,
Snakes hissing around our heads
Medusa, too, was a victim
Of the gods’ whims
Locked into a life of celibacy
Disfigurement the price of sex
Cursed to hide her form
Hunted and feared
Lust for her blood
Balanced against
Lust for her body
Rage coursing through her veins
Manifested in the glow of her eyes
The hiss of her breath
The rattle of her tail
That same rage runs through women today
Though the gods are silent
Man playing God guised in morality
Denying rights to all who might disagree
Cloaking their lust in black robes
Pointing fingers
Placing blame
Protecting their interests
Without taking responsibility
Forcing our disfigurement
For fear we might
Turn them to stone
I took the photo that partially inspired this poem while wandering around various buildings in Dublin. I thought the design was fascinating. Then I looked at the photo and instantly had an image of medusa’s snakes. The true inspiration for the poem came when so many states began writing anti-abortion bills that would eventually lead to the overturn of Roe vs. Wade. Needless to say, I was angry, and I still am.
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