standing tall, complete alone.
Nurturing the world and seasons.
Blessing marriages, helping children
be born to protect them, cradle all.
Such grace and beauty. Hera.
Juno, the Roman goddess.
Sacrifice you made at the hands
of trickery, caring for a wounded
bird, that turned out to be the one
you would marry, powerful Zeus.
Serving as his wife while he
threw the vows back in your face.
Sleeping with any Greek goddess
or mortal that caught his eye.
Your wrath, rage, vengeance
toward the women Zeus had
lain with, only once turning
on the one who was master.
Cow symbolizing your watchfulness.
Peacock tells of your beauty,
luxury, immortality and gorgeous,
bright, big eyes now turned to fire.
Now people hear your name, Hera,
images of jealousy and hell hath
no fury like a woman scorned.
Light and darkness lies in all.
To be the goddess taking care
of married women, adored and
your own person, patron of women.
Only to be humiliated by your
the cuckoo that showed you
he could not be trusted.
I'm sure many women
understand how you lost
yourself to someone unworthy.
Some may admire your revenge.
For you were the stunning goddess
of the heavens, the protector of
children, the watcher of husbands
and wives, lovely Juno, lovers
are drawn to marry in June.
Who could blame you for your
anger toward Zeus and his mistresses.
Homer portrayed you wrong.
@ donetta sifford 2-20-2013
"It stands to reason that where there’s sacrifice, there’s someone collecting sacrificial offerings. Where there’s service, there’s someone being served. The man who speaks to you of sacrifice, speaks of slaves and masters. And intends to be the master."—Ayn Rand