just words and tales and myths.
When a violent man visited my household,
carrying my daughter
into the arms of Hell himself,
I could not believe this could happen to us.
But it did, and I was without my daughter.
I went to her father, a powerful man,
a man accustomed to making people do
what he wants to do;
a man who manipulates people as if he
could alter the very fabric of life itself.
He was useless.
The gall of men who pretend to be gods, and then
permit other men to do this to women.
I had always focused my attention on
making things work--
I farmed, I nurtured, I kept the seasonal holidays.
But nothing is gained from the passing seasons when your
daughter is in Hell.
Now she is lost to me, and I am utterly lost.
I just wanted to get away--
there's no point to the big house and the SUV
and the endless parties when
your daughter is in a life worse than death.
I watched her change and twist and mold and degrade
into the spouse of the man I despised.
I took a job, well beneath my qualifications,
a sort of glorified governess.
I had learned that protecting children was
all I really wanted to do.
I told my employers my name was the
Greek word for "seeker",
and, truly, I was seeking.
I thought for a moment that I could bury
myself in another family's son.
I had such big plans for him--
his life would be divine.
But they found me out,
just as I was showing him
how fire molds souls,
and my protege was hurt, somehow--
men rarely can stand the tempering to
make them stronger.
I had to tell them who I really was,
go back to my real life.
Now I see my daughter for a few days a year,
and focus on my work,
and burn constantly with rage.
I give in plenty,
amidst the harvest of the years,
but I also try to ruin
men who abuse women, and
men who stand by while it happens.