Ever since I was little I have been bright,

Momma used to call me her sunshine.

Twirling, whirling, crashing; life seemed a dance. The pulse in my feet led me to the forest.

123-123-123- 123

I am the acrobat of the circus.

I entertain I delight I bring joy. 

Momma would spin my golden locks, her crow’s feet creased from a century of smiles. She lovingly sweeps my hair into place. 

I am the sand on the beach, I glow warmth, every molecule of mine gleams. 

Apollo saw this. He called me sunshine too. He said he loved me, longed to share in my warmth. But who did this love glorify? 

My self. My safety. 

So, sweetly I sang “No” softly I rejected. “A life serving the gods is best.”

Chin up Cassandra. Joy must be brought.

His anger turned. The gift given freely turned contingent. The power of eternal knowledge pounds through my temples like crashing waves, pulling me from society, friends, my mother

        into an island of isolation

“Who can I tell, who would believe me? Oh hateful hand to turn such loving words”

Athena I will serve, Athena I will praise. “Wisdom be my protector and friend, give me discernment against unbearable knowledge.” 

So I worshiped. My songs flooded, not the forest, but the temple; Melody raised heavenward in adoration. I brought joy to Athena, I delighted in the gods.

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My face swept from floor to sky in the rhythm of reverence.

I shone bright. Brighter than walls could contain. Warmth born from my solitude spilt onto the streets. Passerbyers smiled at my joy.

Then he passed by. I watched his lips pull into a sneer

Golden locks broke under his grip. Rainbows of purple yellow green painted my neck 

and inner thighs. Red flowered on breasts and knees.

He brought agony. And with his perversion, my purpose collapses.

By his greed, my destiny destroyed.

Now lies form in the wells of my heart. Bubbling up they burst against the walls of my skull. 

alone unworthy       weak

broken degenerate

purposeless

Hot Steam Rises, Filling My Head, Seeping Out Of My Ears. 

            Fated knowledge does not stop. Like a carnival tune it pierces round and 123-

          123-  Round, ricocheting

123-  between my ears    –123

get it out- get the curse out- tear out hair- tear out knowing- tear out pain

The torrents of knowledge build- and rushing through them, meaning

praise gods- be hope- be light.

Then deeper from the wine dark sea

Bring Joy

Then navy blue

Bring Joy

Then aqua green

Bring Joy

Then foamy white

Bring Joy

Purpose pulses through me from tide to break.

 Lies dormant without light or water. 

I can help. I know the eternal hope ahead. We can rejoice! We can Dance! 

We must praise! The gods are good. 

I am the light I raise to the sky!