To Pythia, It's Been 2,000 Years
by Stephanie Prchal
Today I laughed with my sister
When she told me it felt like winter
After we looked out the porch’s glass door
And saw a summer sky tousled by a rainy wind
And it was funny
Because I wondered if we were tied
In more ways than one
Like swallows sensing oncoming storms
We feel something is wrong
We’re drinking, smoking
Comparing charts of stars and distant cold constellations
Eating our cake and wandering through quiet parks
Like those oracles
Our sisters from time immemorial
Swimming through heady fatal fumes
Trying to find an answer
Because They’re all waiting
And my heart goes out to all my sisters
Because if we don’t light a
Path with lanterns burning strong with fire
Or give a solution that will balm a dying
Soldier suffering for so long
That no one even remembers
Who had cast the first stone
Then what good are we
How will we soothe the roiling seas or
Lead nations walking down war paths
Set by our forefathers ages ago
Who cut deep clefts into the earth
Carting away her vapour and marrow
While asking us for hope
Or even worse
Healing
Because our lives are in our own hands
But sometimes I think of Pythia in that tall temple
A youth plucked
Among summer lilies from farmers’ homes
I wonder if she felt tied and tired too
If she and her sisters saw the fall of their gods
And themselves too
Clawing through that miasma to fresh air
But when the smoke cleared
What could we have expected
Except for a summer sun
Usurped by a solstice sickness