The Curse of Kassandra

 

Ignorance would have been bliss for Kassandra.

 

But her curse became our curse:

In the temples, in the home, on the streets,

Our wise and insightful words are 

Mislabeled as Hysteria.

 

When we gather, our secret selves can draw back

The gauzy veil of history and hubris

And with our third eye opened, we see

All that was, all that is, and all that could be.

 

So they divide our coven, sew seeds of

Distrust, muzzle us with modesty and

Marriage and motherhood,

Make a mockery of our magic.

 

Kassandra knew what we know:

The pain of being ignored, of going mad

With frustration and anguish when

Our voices are silenced.