Where I see the Olympians
I see Aphrodite in gentle smiles, in clasped hands and hugs between friends and lovers, in the silk of a rose petal and the sheen of a pearl earring, in perfectly winged eyeliner and crooked teeth, in freckles and the curve of a wrist.
I see Athene in the reflection of light off glass, in between lines on a page and in the minds of others, in old libraries brimming with knowledge and children’s books that teach the colours of the rainbow, in old military maps and in the blade of a dagger.
I see Apollo in dawn and dusk, in the gleam of the keys of a grand piano and in tattered books of poetry, in paintings and in the center of a bullseye, in the sound a bandaid makes when you open it and the sound of classic rock.
I see Hermes in highways and abandoned back roads, in postage stamps and passport pages, in old Cadillacs and little mopeds, in the gaze of a pickpocket and in a to-go cup from Starbucks.
I see Ares in the furious shouts of protesters, in bloody knuckles and the Harley ripping down the street of a suburban neighborhood, in the aluminium of dog tags and cold metal of a gun.
I see Dionysos in sticky glasses and exploding bottles of champagne, in neon lights and the lights of a theatre, in edm and pride flags, in the bitter taste of wine and the ring that forms around a beer bottle, in whoops of excitement and bloodshot eyes.
I see Zeus in the gavel of a judge and the shakiness in a child’s voice as they count “one-one hundred, two-one hundred”, in the stern gaze of an authority figure and the points of a golden crown, in wide, warm grins and pats on the shoulder.
I see Hera in the circle of a wedding band, the blush of a bride and in light off marble flooring, in gilded bird cages and gilded diadems, in the shared gaze of an old married couple and in the sobs of the newly married one as they apologize for the words they said.
I see Demeter in the fierce protectiveness of a mother, in 5am cereal and fresh bread straight from the oven, in the potted plants on a kitchen windowsill and the black richness of fertile soil, in loving pats on the cheek and tight hugs.
I see Poseidon in waves crashing against the shore and in tiny aquariums in the Midwest, in the gallop of a horse and in sailors songs, in the intricacy of a woven net and in the point of a fish hook, in Hawaiian print and white sands.
I see Artemis in girls that take no shit and roll their eyes at boys, in the glow of the moon and in the stars surrounding, in the curve of a bow and in the quiet of the woods, in bare feet hitting dirt and hands along tree bark, in the eyes of a wolf and the eyes of a doe.
I see Hephaestus in the calluses on hands that are covered in dirt, in pulled-apart machinery and the inner workings of a clock, in the heat of a forge and the wiring inside a computer, in the determination of those that are disabled and in the hearts of those that love despite having not been so themselves.
Finally, I see Hestia in the flame of a fireplace and the flame of a candle, in home cooked food and laughter as you sit around a table, in the smell of spices and the sound of oil frying, in the hugs between family members and the warm joy in family gatherings.