You are painted with man’s desire

and God’s abhorrence of female lust.

You are lesbian, you are goddess,

you are teacher, anything other

than woman.

With a voice as tall as Homer’s,

as fiery as the flame

nurtured by Hestia.

In every fragment

we sketched your breasts,

imagined how you’d lick your lips

and squeeze your thighs together.

We never heard what you had to say,

to Aphrodite nor that maid,

but bought front row seats

to what we sought to portray –

sex and sensuality,

morals and lost virginity.

With your words in our mouths

we endeavoured to set you free.

For thousands of years

we have misunderstood our task,

is just to listen to you speak.

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Kristiana Reed juggles writing and teaching English; in both vocations she endeavours to remind people of their self worth and how dazzlingly beautiful the world can be.

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