118 words: The First Olympian

Atlantis burgeoned from the bottom of the ocean, swelled from the sand and stretched out for miles in every direction, a clam opening its mouth. Mythology called her a man, Poseidon, the Goddess of the sea. Born from her kingdom: the owl, the deer, the swan, the serpent, the peacock. Vengeful children, a family of knives; they created war, jealousy, spite, sprinkled it on the world with pinched fingers. The mother watched them from condensed clouds, from drenched earth. She watched them fight and fail and love and enjoy. She watched with surging eyes and waited, heaving the heavy rage of the ocean to protect them, cradling them in rain when they bled to soothe their golden skin.


This Mother’s Day post is brought to you by prompts (ironically) from my dad: “love,” “family,” and “mother.” So we created this together, in a way. This is a tribute to all mothers, but mine in particular. The fierce and tender Goddess, the first Olympian. 

(Also, I am aware that I’ve completely bastardized any semblance of accurate Greek mythology here, it’s okay, I’m sure they won’t mind.)




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