Born out of deep, unfamiliar waters—
from the darkest trenches home to Earth—
born a daughter, born a lover—
born a creature unbeknownst of her worth;

Only half a centimeter long and wide—
smaller than a fiery fingernail—
but having a soul with translucent inner eyes—
a butterfly with the heart of an orca whale.

Cold ocean sinks beneath her skin,
and The Medusa believes she cannot swim;
as the light drifts from within, the world spins,
the young Hydrozoa shrinks in on herself.

Surrounded by endless aquatic dusk,
she listens to the seafloor’s lyric hush;
and just before she fades to sand dust,
the bell within her beats and thrums.

Awakened by a sound, a voice, inside
her fragile frame of crystal white,
she feels her body reviving—slowly, sure,
but nonetheless with strength and might.

Ninety tentacles outstretch toward the surface,
feeling for light, for life, for love.
The Medusa settles in her bright-red fire,
as her immortality rises above.

Brinn W.