Maiden of the Mist

She plays poker with the lesser gods now,

in order to prove that she hasn't forgotten them,

now that she's changed jobs. She used to be

the one who married Heno's son. She used to be

the daughter-in-law of the thunder god

who lived in Niagara falls. The maid of the mist,

they called her, a myth in her own right.

Nobody speaks her name now.

Ordinary. Forgotten.

People once believed in her. Now, she sees,

people not only disbelieve in old gods and old legends,

they disbelieve everything. She heard a boy say once,

"Indians are real?" That's what made her quit.

Now she joins the retirees on poker night

and eagerly adds to the talk of "the old days."

Nostalgic. Powerless.

She thought, imagine letting the truth out—

that Artemis still hunts and Athena still studies,

that the Valkyries still petition and rage, or that

even the Loch Ness monster still lives in his dark waters.

What would become of this world that is already so chaotic?

They talk about this every time they gather for poker night.

It's always, "When people sacrificed to me" as Titania serves drinks

and "If I still had my powers" as Skuld pushes her bundt cake over.

Meaningless. Empty.