Ode to Circe – Mistress Of Her Magic

A goddess born in obsidian halls,

Silent in your hidden magic,

You were born of light but kept in shadows,

Growing like ivy on unyielding stone,

Cowering in your dulled shine.

In your father's palace, you never belonged,

Forced to bear your flaws but never your strength.

Uncaring were the hands that raised you,

Clawing at your soul time and time again,

Burdened by the weight of eternity,

Mocked by those who wore their power as armour,

And savoured their immortality,

They could not see the quiet fire in you,

And the magic you would one day claim.

In secret, you knelt beside the condemned,

Offering mercy where others gave none,

You learnt that compassion must be hidden,

Behind the iron veil of power.

In the divine halls of cold indifference,

You buckled under their sneering gazes,

But your mind soared beyond the palace walls,

As your heart dreamt of a world beyond,

And yearned to taste the barest glimmers of love.

Betrayal turned your love to ashes,

Cloaked in the acrid scent of rage,

At last, you found your power not as a gift,

But as a wound you wielded like a blade,

As you poured your sorrow into spells.

You did not wish to create a monster,

You desired only to soothe your pain,

But when her screams echoed across the shore,

You knew at once what you had done.

Burning with guilt, you confessed,

They cast you out in shame,

Banished, for daring to wield your will.

You were but the second of your kind,

To reveal the weight of your actions,

While the rest hid behind their divinity,

Unburdened by the cruel favours they bestowed.

The island became your sanctuary,

A blessing wrapped up in atonement.

There, unobserved, unbound,

You soared on the wings of witchcraft,

Carving spells from root and bone,

Writing your name into the language of the wild,

And slowly, with the salt wind in your lungs,

You began to live life on your own terms,

Tasting liberation for the first time.

But the mortal men darkened your shores,

With their grasping hands and honeyed lies,

They ravaged your sanctuary,

Mistaking your solitude as frailty.

Fury answered where mercy had once reigned,

You rose like a storm unchained,

And in retribution, turned them into swine,

Their beastly forms revealed their truth,

Justice wrapped in transformation.

A feared goddess, you rose from the depths,

Wielding magic like righteous anger,

And began to write your own story,

Free at last of the prying eyes of men.

You were never meant to be a footnote, Circe,

But mistress of your own destiny.

Over centuries, you shaped your wisdom,

In the depths of the murky waters of folly.

You are a woman of your own making,

Forged by pain and power who knew that 

To live a life under the yokes of others,

Was to be caged into different roles,

Daughter, sister, lover, mother -

Your soul chiselled into submission 

And carved over and over again,

Until your reflection was but a stranger to you.

At long last, you sealed your fate,

Not as a nymph grovelling on her knees,

But as a woman revelling in her mortality,

Free at last, and never unloved.

-Rupanjali Samadder