Thrilled as I stand in the
Midst of Zeus’ wrath,
Darkness becomes my blanket, yet—
My hair is raised and I shiver.

I become static—
A conductor of electricity—
A scapegoat.

Strike.

A silent beam shatters the sky—
He missed.

My stillness taunts him;
He roars and applauds
My boldness.

Strike.

Fear is emblazoned
In the sky—
An atmospheric nightlight.

But I am no child.
I remain defiant to fright.

Strike.

I wait to feel the
Reverberations of his voice.

I will it to be known:
Whose tenacity is greater?

Then it comes—
A huff of frustration
whips my hair from my shoulders—
A final rumble of defeat.

Silently.

Dark tears fall from Hera’s eyes
Disgraced by her husband’s
Loss.

I bask in a wet, warm ablution of victory;
My being crowned with the
shine of Helios’s Rays—
As Iris displays the message of…

The power of quiet.