Siren

plum glass & filigree beads antique silver finish

$66.00

irce waited, preparing her herbs, blessed with the love of her father, Helios, and the tears of her mother, Perse.

They would come, they would all come, and stay.

Forever.

Her sister knew the ways, yet Calypso would share none. She had no need of charms or potions; she had her beauty, her long, glorious hair that shone like the moon upon the ocean. Men would wrap themselves, bury themselves in that hair, forgetting all others, remembering only the sea, the cruel and majestic sea that always brought them to her.

No, Calypso could teach none of that to her. She had her own ways.

Circe crept around her grotto: flames, flickering in every crag that would hold oil, dancing with her shadows. Light and dark darted from each other, reaching, yet never touching.

Coral and pearl, crushed into a fine powder, mixed with seawater in an abalone shell, and poured over her hair should do the trick. She combed the fusion through: each strand must be covered, separated, filled with the sea.

Only the sea.

© text by Kerrie Colantonio