Psyche’s March

The sky is clear and deep blue. 

The sun shines and the cool morning air is still. 

It is a day that should be enjoyed, many are,

but not Psyche, she leads the family procession

up the mountain to her wedding,

the sound of the families’ footfalls

accompanied by the dirge of horns,

and the wailing lamentations of her mother and father. 

She marches up the path to her fate, marriage to a monstrous beast.

The hem of her white gown is grey with dust from the track,

her ashen face is set in a mask of calm, grim resignation.

Psyche inventories her life,

as a small girl she wandered, and wandered into the wood

where she was very nearly prey to a mountain lion.

Claws raked down her calf.

Her cries for help were answered by a shepherd’s dog.

The ritual of predator and prey interrupted

before it could reach conclusion.

She thought of it and knew

that she had tangled with the beast before

and survived. 

She thought of her brother,

the amphora she broke and blamed on him

and for which he was beaten by their father. 

She would survive this march up the mountain,

because she still owed her brother. 

She did not know how she would repay

that childhood debt,

but the thought of the need to repay

assured her that life would continue.