Do not seek her soul—
For care of your own sanity
Do not tempt her truth.
Because she gives it freely. Always
Inside the unblinking eyes of a woman:
Two stony stars gray in your demise as a man.
The oldest female design— A wise witch
Crowning balance in her rituals of death.
Her company of snakes coiled,
A bright hiss
Inside her ear offering her your blackest
Secrets and she smiles,
A pure smile, white in her delight—heavenly;
Cradling the constellations
Of your wilted pride
And eventual death if you stare long
Enough, trying to calculate her mysteries.
Masiela Lusha
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/medusa-s-pride/
