Ariadne

by Jennifer Saint

I had hit upon a truth of womanhood: however blameless a life we led, the passions and the greed of men could bring us to ruin, and there was nothing we could do.

No longer was my world one of brave heroes; I was learning all too swiftly the women’s pain that throbbed unspoken through the tales of their feats.

Why mortals bloomed like flowers and crumbled to nothing? Why their absence left a gnawing ache, a hollow void that could never be filled? And how everything they once were, that spark within them, could be extinguished so completely yet the world did not collapse under the weight of so much pain and grief.’

I know that human life shines more brightly because it is but a shimmering candle against an eternity of darkness and it can be extinguished with the faintest breeze.’

‘The gods do not know love because they cannot imagine an end to anything they enjoy.

I would not let a man who knew the value of nothing make me doubt the value of myself.

Every woman alive knew that the journey through birth was a voyage between life and death, for her and the infant alike.

Like a vast constellation of stars pinpricking the night sky, I could feel us all strive together to each bring new sparks of light into the universe.

They are the cause of their own suffering, and yet they will never see it. They will rage against the gods all day long, and pray to them and plead for their mercy in the darkness of night. But they will never see how simply they could make their lives better for themselves.’