Helen is not of Troy
and not of Sparta.
She does not live in the towers of burning Ilium,
or the ruined palaces of once-great Greece–
No, she is found between the folds of history
over and over and over again.
Blamed and de-famed and cruelly scorned,
She is every woman who bears the burden
of the faults of men and gods.
She is all of us–
History repeating itself,
maybe to punish
maybe to teach
maybe to remind
But it does not matter–
Whatever might be the ill-taught lesson,
the shouts of the imprisoned and deprived
are forever lost in the clanging of weapons,
and forgotten women.
Sing, o goddess, the rage of Helen
–which launched not a thousand ships
but was stifled and silenced
by a war fought wrongly in her honour.
sing, o goddess, the rage of helen | by prithvi. p
With war on your heels and wild in your hair, you are more beautiful than you ever were as the docile daughter of a king and the obedient wife of another. In running, you have embraced the half God in your veins. Freedom becomes you.
Nikita Gill, Paris To Helen As They Sail To Troy
Beauty. Blessed like Aphrodite with music in your steps. Stars have smiled and whispered their stories into your ear. Yet, a rose is more than it’s petals. It still had thorns. Helen had a dagger and knives and claws.
Loyalty. Wit that would make Athena green with envy. A force an earthquake could not shake. Iron clad bones with rust in your lungs, you turned a thread into a weapon and fought a war.
Hope. You’ve thrown laughter in the faces of the Fates. Firm, unyielding; there was hidden fury in your waves. You’ve cried tears like rivers, but they have not made you weak. Even with blurred vision, you’ve demolished cities.
Strength. Every breath a blow to the heavens. Celestial, you’ve made the skies your home, and the sun has stolen kisses from your lips. Flames have been your companion, and destruction has been your home. Amidst the rubble, you’ve still found gold.
Power. Magic has replaced your blood. You’ve grown diamonds from the Earth. Foolish you are not, mad you may be. But storms are unpredictable, there’s peace right before the wind’s shriek.
Immortal. A Goddess born from ash. You’ve had dinner with Death. When the story began you were just a simple girl, but this simple girl found the keys to a kingdom and with them won the world.
L.H.Z // not all myths tell the right hero’s story
we will ruin ourselves
like an ancient city burning
in the name of a woman
far too lovely,
the face that launched
a thousand ships
forced to face
all of the flames
her love sparked-
our love, too, will end in fire
I am Persephone
With a sharp tongue and fiery wit
A daughter above, but a Queen in the pit
I am Medusa
A victim - disrespectful at best
My punishment making my rage manifest
I am Artemis
Invincible to man’s deceitful tune
But as powerful as the pull of the moon
I am Aphrodite
Direction of my affection misunderstood
Suddenly all that matters is my womanhood
I am Helen
Beauty as radiant as the sun
But I am not a prize to be won.
I am Hera
Undeniably loving and fiercely loyal
But I am not a vengeful royal
I am Pandora
Trusting quickly, like a songbird
But I am not tricked by man’s charming word
I am Cassandra
Beauty that will leave you breathless
But I am nothing close to helpless
The Queen of Sparta, her story starts when Zeus seduces her in the guise of a swan. She later gave birth to two sets of twins: Helen of Troy, Clytemnestra and the Dioscuri twins, Castor and Pollux (Polydeuces).