poem: "Quotidian" (meta)
title: Quotidian
author: fannishliss
genre: poem! also, meta
Quotidian
We might dream of heroism -
something more heroic than
stitching together a seam that was torn,
slathering a piece of raisin bread with butter,
welcoming home a mate after a long day's work,
wiping the tears from a child's face,
surprising someone with their favorite pie.
Dreaming, I've carried my child on my back from the ruins of an apocalyptic city.
But I have carried my child on my back.
Dreaming, I've torn a man's head from his shoulders when he tried to take my water.
But I have answered back when I disagreed.
Dreaming, I've stabbed a monster a hundred times until it stopped moving.
But I have used that same knife to skin a deer, and all winter we ate.
Ulysses fought his way home to Penelope's hearth.
The one I love
never tortured,
is not an assassin,
never ended the world.
His nightmares are when our boy
runs out into the street without looking.
What hero would make a home in loving arms?
A real one, a lucky one, every day.
-----
to all my fannish and feminist friends, I'd love to know how you read this poem. All comments are welcome!
author: fannishliss
genre: poem! also, meta
Quotidian
We might dream of heroism -
something more heroic than
stitching together a seam that was torn,
slathering a piece of raisin bread with butter,
welcoming home a mate after a long day's work,
wiping the tears from a child's face,
surprising someone with their favorite pie.
Dreaming, I've carried my child on my back from the ruins of an apocalyptic city.
But I have carried my child on my back.
Dreaming, I've torn a man's head from his shoulders when he tried to take my water.
But I have answered back when I disagreed.
Dreaming, I've stabbed a monster a hundred times until it stopped moving.
But I have used that same knife to skin a deer, and all winter we ate.
Ulysses fought his way home to Penelope's hearth.
The one I love
never tortured,
is not an assassin,
never ended the world.
His nightmares are when our boy
runs out into the street without looking.
What hero would make a home in loving arms?
A real one, a lucky one, every day.
-----
to all my fannish and feminist friends, I'd love to know how you read this poem. All comments are welcome!