SOL

Words by Georgina Hernandez
Art by Tiffany Moreno 

Solitude, born of flames
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" personified Oaxacan Medea,
burning vengeance within her Trinity of fire, truest of her kind 

Jason with his heavy hand and ring of witches,
Casting misery on the scorned
Golden Fleece could not cover those scars 

Aftermath, she weeps on the floor,
possessions shattered as her lip bleeds
"I wish, I wish I might die."
Staring at the holes punched into the wall,
hoping they might swallow her whole 

Woman alone, fruit of her womb as her SOLe
company and counsel
A world away from roots and comfort,
dirt roads that callused her feet
Decades of batter would follow her across borders 

Medea wished for escape, to live happily
Fate became mental imprisonment 

Spring's return from the underworld, season of hope
Gods came to her salvation each time
The war spanning months, succumbing to July. 

Summer became dark,
Vessel grew cold as the earth scorched outside
Medea was loved, nevermore alone.