Hephaestus

You were born into softness and mist in a castle atop the clouds. Disgust would have been the first emotion you knew.

It would have been written into the cold lines on your mother’s calculating face as she dismissed you with a wave of her hand
because you were not like the others.

You did not look as though you were sculpted from stone.
You were not cunning or powerful.

You did not fit in,
and the vanity of those who did overpowered any love they
might have felt for you.

The second emotion would have been fear.

Fear as you were discarded from the soft clouds;
if you had only been normal,
you would have been allowed to stay,
if you could have been right,
like the rest of them were.
But you were not normal and not right.

So you fell – were dropped – were thrown – like a match that
burned the fingertips of that which
lit it.

You fell for a day and a night.

As you watched the slow descent of the sun,
you felt like there was something special about the way
it sank over the horizon,
the way it stretched over the world as though it was clinging on,
as though it didn’t want to go.
Even as you saw that desperation, however,
you admired it – it burned bright.
It burned like fire.

-Annie Kleber

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About the Poet-

Annie, a first-year college student from the USA, is majoring in Classics. She has a deep passion for Greek and Roman literature and eagerly devours any stories or plays she can find. In her free time, Annie enjoys spending time with her friends in local parks.