“Sing for me, Ari” dad asks, as he looks at the white beast that he’s just caught.

What can I say. He is so sentimental in his old age. I need to remember to appreciate these moments. They won’t be there forever..

And after the last fight we had...well.. I need to make up for it.

But before I get a chance, to start singing.., he quizzes me, like when i was very young. “So, Ari. Tell me. We caught a whale. What do we need to do now?”

“Gut him? Clean all the yucky stuff ?” i intentionally use the word “yucky” to play along.

He nods in approval, but says “no no no”.

It was funny when i was 9. I’m sure it was.

“Scales. Clean the scales?” i offer.

“Do you see any scales? It’s a whale we got. Not a fishy”.

It’s just a game. I know the answer and he knows i know the answer. Is everything a mind fuck with parents, or is it just me?

So..

I sing and he cleans the crap.

out of the flesh of the dead abimal, he twists out an old rusty harpoon. The remains of a rope still dangling on the cleat. He tests the point.

“Amatures” he mumbles and chucks it into the foam.

Then another harpoon, then another.

Some netting material, some rigging...

“Ha! Look at that!” He says, picking out something entangled in some ropes.

He cleans it a bit. Smiles triumphantly.

“So Ari. You’re keen on those bozos over land, so What is this, then?” He says. Hands me the thing.

Oh boy. I don’t have a clue. But he will push this on me, every chance he gets. This is some educational thing. Or a little chance at revenge.

Or both.

He reminds me of what happened every chance he gets..

That jerk, Eric. I’m sooo over him.

But Dad will never let me forget...

That jerk , Eric.

That jerk, Eric.

“Gee, I don’t know, Da. I would guess this is a..... A torch!”

“Hemm....nice try Ari, babe, but no. Not even close”.

″ ok, OK... A special tool to hold paint while hanging from the rigging?”

“No...not that..”

“Ok...how about some bracing for one of their cannons?”

“Interesting idea, but still wrong..”

He is hungry to show off..

“Fine..i give up... What is it?”

“Oh...you kids give up too easily..”

“So tell me already...” I say “pleeease”.

″ fine. Look here. These straps go around something. There used to be a clasp, but i guess someone’s bitten it off..but if they bit it off...it means that....” He leads me...

“That there was something there to eat”.

“That’s right...I’ll give you a hint...it’s something you wanted very much once. The guy that had this wanted the same thing too...but he lost...”

“A leg...”

“Yes!...ladies and gentlemen, i give you the amazing Ariel!!!” He says. “Legs. Well. You had them for a while, then you came back under the sea...well...This is...I’m not sure how it’s called, but it’s what happens when humans lose one of their legs. This cup thing fits over the part that’s ...oh...the stump...and they strap it. And they can walk with it...sort of... I should imagine not very well. And they also ...well they can’t swim much either..” He says. “Now...I haven’t seen a wooden leg like this, stuck on a whale before , but this one..this fish is special.. So...maybe the guy minus a leg tried a bit too hard to kill it... ” he says “Amatures...makes me laugh..” He

″ Can you imagine how ridiculous they looked..this guy and his whale...”.

but his chuckle is superficial. He overshot this by a mile.

I don’t know what to say. Whatever i do, it keeps bringing things up...He will never forgive me for betraying him, and he will hold my coming back, the way that i did.. on my knees...well he’ll hold it over me forever..

It’s not fair but...

I don’t miss Eric, anymore. But I can’t help but feel sad for this guy...

I wonder what he was doing?

Why would he just get entangled like this?

What was the point?

I remember going around collecting stuff from sunken ships..

Dad was NOT happy when he found out.. Destroyed the entire thing...

That’s when i really got into trouble..

I guess i also hold many things over him..

Such a tragedy...

Did he have friends?

Did he fight with his parents?

Did they try to stop him from chasing whales across the ocean?

I hope he didn’t suffer..

I imagine the poor guy being dragged uncontrollably behind the animal.

Makes me shudder when i think how afraid he must have been..

Probably drowned a long time before he was eaten, but you never know.

I suddenly feel a tightening. All this sadness, all this ... It’s overwhelming.

I cry for a moment.

I guess i still miss Eric after all...

Dad sees me crying. He knows that like so many times before, he went too far.

“Sorry Ari...” He says.. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. ....this was just...this was only meant...oh...look at me...I’m so ashamed...”

“No, dad. You warned me that this was going to happen, you were only...”

“Yes....only trying to protect you....but you... Eric...I hoped we could put it all in the past...go on a little ‘me and you’ time...and I can’t keep my big mouth shut...it’s not funny...nothing in this is funny. I’m so sorry”

We look at the waves for a while. Crashing on the rocks. Saying more in their rhythm than we could ever say..

“Hey...help me clean

this, and we can cook...” He says and gives me the trident.

We let all the muck float out, food for the seagulls and crabs for about a year.

And then we roast the thing over a nice volcano. Albino porpoises are something special.

Tastes like chicken...

I miss chicken.

I miss dairy products...

I cry a little again as we work. But i don’t let him see it.

Oh, how I miss Eric.....

We go back under the water, i feel a bit guilty that we didn’t bring anything for the others. But this was our thing.

"Tie back the snakes, please."

"I will not."

My youngest sister was a scourge.

"You know father can't stand to see them writhe," I said, perhaps because the strains on my own hair were paining me, and I didn't want to suffer alone. But mostly, I wanted her to know I was displeased. She always had to do things the way she preferred, and that was usually to our detriment.

"Medusa, you're such a child," Euryale breathed. Her own snakes were secured in a tight, tight bun. "This is why you will always be mortal. I hope you enjoy the finality of death."

"Quiet," Medusa hissed, her hair wild against our orders. "And for your credence, I will not die. You can hold me to that."

This was how it always was when we visited mother and father.

We stood at that same island that we met them at every year, the whirlpool slowly churning wider in the sprawl of the middle sea. They loved to make us wait, to challenge our patience because they could. Exercises of power were all they had now that we were far away from them. There was no question where Medusa got her demeanor, though the same was often said of Euryale and I.

Before long, the daunting form of our parents towered over us, half-submerged in the water as they looked down.

"Stheno," my father bellowed, "why is Medusa's hair like that?"

I scowled. Somehow, Medusa's problems always fell into my lap.

"You should probably ask her," I said, feeling my scalp strain as the rope of my own bun pulled taut.

"I take orders from no one," Medusa said, her arms folded. I could see cracks in her skin, made dry and unpleasant by the salted air. She stared up at our parents, sneering so her fanged teeth stood out. They glowered back, and the usualy stand-off between the three of them commenced.

"We are not here for pleasantries about your fashion," our mother said, her claws glinting in the twilight. "There is an urgent matter here, Medusa. Your death is upon you. The hero Perseus will come for your head."

"Let him," my youngest sister snarled.

"Foolish girl," my father said immediately, and thunder clapped on the horizon. I saw Euryathe twitch in my peripheral vision. "Your opportunities in this world are not infinite as ours. Unless you want to be a trophy for some man, you will evade him."

"I'd kill him first," she said, unfazed.

"Do not be so certain," our mother said. "This man is the son of Zeus. He has been sent by Athena. Powerful hands push him, and you have nothing but us to protect you."

Medusa laughed, loud and throaty, so much so that it nearly echoed off of the waves by its strength.

"Athena!" she cried. "A-the-na!" She sounded the syllables out like a foreign word. "A cow! A petty, deceitful old hag!"

I neglected to mention that our mother had been on this earth longer than the rather young goddess of war.

"Your mouth will not protect you when his sword is at your throat," our father said. He sounded strange, his voice was too quiet. It was as if he was realizing that this was useless.

"We shall see." Medusa stood defiant, her nose up high and barely deigning to give my parents her eyes. "In the meantime, I'd like to go home. If this is all we're here for, that is."

"Do you not value your life?" my mother growled.

"Of course I do," Medusa said. "It is your opinion that I'm not interested in worrying about. Thank you for informing me of what is ahead, but I can handle it just on-"

"Euryale," my father said suddenly. "Stheno." His voice became harsh and cold once more. "Protect your sister at all costs. There is a prize on her head, and it is high."

"Are we not at risk?" I said, speaking before I could think.

More thunder, louder than last time. My stomach churned.

"Your sister is more important, silly girl," he said. "She is the youngest."

"She is a brat."

The waves rose suddenly, splashing onto me hard.

"Be silent and do as you're told."

I had no more to say. I closed my eyes tight, eager to blame the salt if they asked why. Euryathe said nothing. There was no one to defend us but each other. There was no one to protect Medusa but my sister and I.

"Do as we've said," my mother said, and I heard the whirlpool swallow them again. I stood with my eyes closed still for a few moments more, silent.

"You're such an idiot, Stheno," I heard Medusa whisper. For the first time, her voice wavered. I opened my eyes and turned to her. Her shoulders were sagged, and Euryathe was hiding her face in her hands.

"That man is going to kill you," I said, trying to harden my voice. "I'm assuming that you don't want to die."

"I can handle him," she said, turning to face me. "Athena thinks she's so smart, born from the head of that pig. And now her little mortal brother is coming to my head. Hilarious." She scoffed, brushing dirt that wasn't there from her cloak. "Take out your snakes, you two look like matrons."

I'd nearly forgotten. Euryathe and I unleashed our hair, and I sighed as the tightness unwound.

"Athena controls war," Euryathe said. "Would you toy with Ares?"

"I would if he tried to get in my way," Medusa answered, stomping a sandal on the wet dirt of the island. "But that's not the point. Athena is petty. I refuse to let her win."

She touched a snake on her head, and I remembered Athena, who had gained her obsession with my sister after she was attacked in her temple. As if that had been Medusa's fault. My parents had been the same way when we were small, really -- everything came down to us. They never knew the words for apologies, especially not for us.

I stared at my little sister, who had a particularly small snake twirling around her index finger. She looked distracted, her dark eyes looking back at the sea that our parents had come from. The waves were choppy.

"You know," I said quietly, "she is a rotten soul."

She looked at me, the snake continuing to trace around her hand. I saw the smallest twitch on her lips, but nothing more.

"Isn't she?"

We knew we could never protect Medusa, not from the grasp of Zeus and Olympus. And no doubt, by their hand, she would be nothing but a shadow, an obstacle for their demigod hero.

It didn't mean that we couldn't make an effort. For once, I wanted to be different from the things that had led us to that cold, quiet island.

Her smile

Her teeth

Her eyes were like galaxies, big, dark and round.

I have made some discoveries,

She’s just like a rose

Gently swayed side to side  by the warm breeze on a moonlit September night.

Beating on a leather sleeve

Cries a crimson heart

Splashing notions here n’ there

Gushing out its guts

Now he can’t pull in a breath

Can’t bring himself to say

The telltale that will still it

And scrub the stain away

~Cotton

#Love #Poetry #Heartbreak

I walked thru hell with bare feet

Came out the other side

Spitting rage and fire

The demon within me awakened

Ready to save me at any cost

Protection from the pain of this world

I walked thru hell all alone

Tired and frightened and cold

I was born of barbed wire and lace

Of searing heat of the fire

And the salt of the ocean

I was born of a love that will never know deaths

I know your pain not. But I know it would be enough to make the toughest of men want to give up and die. Yet you push through always. I write to you to let you know I’m transforming my sensitive soul into that of a soldier. I am sending it to the academy for strengthening. All the bumps, bruises, slices and cuts to come. I welcome for the chance to better understand you, my hero, my love.

And you were cold.

And I thought I could heal you.

I thought I could wrap you up in my arms and pour my warmth into you.

I try to fix the damaged.

But you, you were past the point of fixing.

And I was to worn to notice.

-I tried to be your miracle

Nude descending a staircase, yeah right.

I would never. Not even if I was alone, at night,

And you paid me. I hate my body. I can’t even get dressed without crippling anxiety and

Well what if.

Let’s see-nude descending a staircase. For me?

Puckered and sculpted calves leading up to thick, full thighs. You can see the cuts of muscle

Though they aren’t professional thighs. Then, a beautiful set of hips, they sit there. Clear curves protruding from the rest of my torso. They aren’t strong, hard muscle. That’s funny, hips aren’t meant to be that way. Mine are no different-thick and soft, beautiful grips for a man who will love me someday. Then my stomach, my middle, my torso, my most hated spot in all the world, my hell. But it is fitting for my body-not too big and not too small, but just right. Soft yet shapely, contouring a bit with some muscle underneath, but not perfect. Perfect for me, perfect for eating and living and perfect for descending nude down a staircase. Beautiful. Rising up to my breasts, which I always think are too big, too fatty and awful looking. But they sit stately and ornate, the right size when you take me all in. Not too big or too fatty or even awful. They are just breasts, you know. And then my collar bone and neck. I’ve never really noticed them. They kind of just sat there, but now-now they are my crown, small jewels that you don’t notice on a swarovski bracelet until the light catches them. Defined collar bone but not pronounced, with a swan-like curve rising over it to support my oval face and waterfall curls. My face is the first thing you’ll look at when I descend nude on a staircase. More likely, my eyes. Almonds with milk chocolate, warm brown eyes topped by arched, dark brows begging you to ask me anything. My nose is too big, isn’t it? But here it compliments my face, it’s romanesque bridge making me appear regal, even. And my smile lines and bags under my eyes, well, where are they? They disappear in my blush at being nude descending a staircase, my fanning eyelashes, and my dazzling smile. You see those bumps and acne scars on my forehead but in all this arrayed presentation you need a little texture to the skin, a little sign that you are raw, untouched, because you are real. Atop my head is the bee’s nest-I hated my curly hair and always wanted it out of the way, but now I see how it falls down my back, over to the side, gracefully. A gorgeous brown with honey colored highlights naturally corkscrew into waves gliding down my bare skin. You would like to see it untreated, unbound like this. I know I would. So a nude descending a staircase. But we are descending and I am a human being so you see the back too. Mine is long, with that graceful curve of my spine that seems to be so aesthetically appealing to artists of ages old and new. It is a natural flow to the base of my spine, where my bottom curves in two full, muscular hills of flesh. I worked hard here and you can see the proof. I might have once glanced at the feel of the skin-some cellulite dotted the curves, and hated them. But now? Now I love them. They are mine and they are quite a thing to show off, it we’re all being honest. So I walk, down those stairs, timid but confident in this machine that is my body. Strong, and soft, and built to perfection because it is mine. I accept this. I will do the unthinkable, I will be the nude descending a staircase.

And you won’t have to turn the lights off, or pay me. I’ll do it for free. I’ll do it when the sun is shining. I’ll even do it with an audience.

Isn’t nakedness beautiful?

***

I fed the sky a nightmare and it spat it back at me. / I sang us both a lullaby that cursed the whole city. / I prayed the rosary and its cross cut me to the bone. / I reached my hands up high but only caught a falling stone. / I ventured a confession; no one cared to hear my plight. / I left the church and sacrificed my spirit to the night.

***

#poetry

#newage

#religion

#challenge

Don’t bother shaving your legs. Unless you really, truly enjoy that part of your routine and look forward to it each day. You don’t have to be a fashion model to be beautiful, and hairy legs are far from ugly. The little hairs evolutionarily keep us warmer, and even though we now have pants, my legs still get cold in winter. And they provide a nice, cooling breeze in the summer, even if the sensation takes a bit of getting used to.

Be strong enough in yourself to be able to look past the rituals expected of modern women and determine if they really matter to you. If they do not, drop them. Be strong enough also to withstand the silly judgments of women and men- they have no right to try to define you with their opinions. Society does not define you, you define it.