IF THE FATES WERE CRUEL.
If the Fates decreed
that I should never die,
and your soul was sentenced
to bloom beneath a thousand names.
I'd learn every century
like a language.
I'd wait where Delphi whispers,
asking Apollo's priestess,
"What face wears your soul this time?"
Each spring,
I'd watch Persephone
rise from the Underworld,
hoping your soul
had risen with her.
I'd descend the halls of Hades,
not to bargain for my life,
but for the memory of yours.
Let Lethe steal your name.
I would remember.
Let Clotho spin another thread,
Lachesis stretch it across another age,
let Atropos sever it again.
I would still be there.
A stranger whose eyes
feel like home.
A myth
the poets could never explain.
For what is immortality,
if not the endless privilege
of searching for the one soul
the gods keep teaching the world
to forget.
and the one heart
I refuse to.
Poetry by Ogundu Christabel oluebube (Chrisie)
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Written on 2026-07-27 at 17:50
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