I think of Hera. I think of a woman who is beautiful and always has been. I think of a woman of great strength and the capacity for good. The ability to create life. To have more grace than I know possible. To love infinitely. To weather any storm possible. She is there.
She is here. She sits in her mighty throne. The one that is not big enough not comfy enough but the one she used always because she can't fathom of replacing it. The royal blue that could never drown her. She is not here. She is in her throne.
I think of the storms. Zeus all mighty God of lightning.
His anger has no end and his selfish starts before he can arrive. His existence is a test of survival to those in his presence
I think of Hera. Her loyalty does not fade even in the worst storms. Storms Zeus has no choice but to create. She has weathered for years and braved the winds of strife endlessly. She has more grace than I could possibly know. She had more grace than I can possibly know.
I think of Hera in her mighty throne. The golden sun basks her in her own glory. She has faced and weathered all the storms. She feels the sun on her back. But there are more storms to come. Hera thinks only of her storms.
Athena and Artemis love Hera. They love Zeus. Athena screams at Hera for battening down the hatches. Athena wages war when Hera prepares for storms. She knows better than to yell at Zeus
Athena teaches Artemis how to hunt
I think of Hera. On her throne. She can. Only. Think of the storm. Everything else is second.
Hera used to be beautiful.
Hera can only think of the storms.
So there is no point in saying any about the storms.
I think of Hera on her mighty throne.
I think of Hera on her mighty throne. I think of her with the sun on her back. I think of the grace I cannot know. I stare at Heras back.
