He Did Not Come.

He didn’t come,
On a dark chariot
Driven by flaming horses.

He didn’t come on a white steed,
Waving a shining, magic sword.
And he didn’t come with a kingdom.

Or an underworld.
Or castle.
Or a mountain.
Or a dominion.

He didn’t come at all, in fact.

But she did.

She, with hair the color of warm earth,
And eyes the color of moss.
A giggle that sounded like a breath of spring.
Freckles on warm, sunkissed cheeks.

And she came to you as a friend. 

She came to you with messy eyeliner
and a broken heart
And she came to you with crop tops
And sweatpants.

She weasled her way in among your books.
Among your life.
Among your heart.

She was there --

Like a sunflower, growing in a messy, messy world.

She came like the spring,
Bringing new life to your world.
and she stayed longer than the season.

You feel plain next to her.

You.

With your dark hair like soot.

Your skin the color of clay-mud,
Your eyes the color of steel.

With your freckles you can barely see.

She is bright, warm spring.

And you.

You are cold, crisp intellect.

You are eyeliner wings that could kill a man.

Lips turned down in a frown.

Serious. You have to be.

Science isn’t a woman’s world.

Or so they say.

But you make it your world.

“Our world.” She corrects, cheerfully. 

Ours.

It seems strange, to you.

To consider yourself so connected to someone. 

Who breathes so much life. 

Books do not have the sort of life she does.

Books do not cry out your name under you.

Books do not feel soft and warm under your hands.

Books do not care for you when you fail a test.

Books do not love you when everything else is gone.

She stays.

To Spring.

To Summer.

To Fall. 

To Winter.

She did not come to you,

With a kingdom.

With a dominion.

With a castle.

With anything more than herself.

And that.

That alone is enough.

Once upon a time, 

There were gods and kings
And monsters and myth.

Once upon a time, 

There was a goddess of spring.
Of rebirth.

Once upon a time, 

There was a goddess of wit.
Of learning.

Goddesses walk among us.

Every day. Every hour. Every season.

Goddesses do not need Gods to be Queens
To be Rulers.

They by themselves can worship.

And be worshiped.