15. Equal, Unequal
Equal, Unequal
Like me, my sisters,
the Oceanids,
were blessed with no gifts.
Unlike my sisters,
my father called upon me
for counsel.
When he claimed
he treated none of his children
differently from each other,
this was one place
where I did differ.
I would walk into his chambers,
that cerulean jewel,
made with walls of deep blue,
and he would ask me
about the nature of waves,
for my thoughts
on what he should build next,
or what Gaia needed
amongst her meadows
and fresh green forests.
‘Styx,’ he would say,
his stormy eyes observant
on the world before him,
‘would this river work here?’
And I would shake my head
as I ruminated on it.
‘It would flood easily,
and the forest is unfriendly
to a river running through it.
The mountains here, however,
would be a kinder place
to create a river.’
And with his hand he would
raise a world moulded with water,
a river through the mountains.
I would point out where
there were rivers and streams
needed and suggest
where land must end,
and where there should be
an ocean or a sea.
It filled me with pride to help him
this way. To be trusted by him
to help build his legacy.
Which is why it filled me
with an impotent rage
when he would then
hand over the guardianship of those rivers
and streams to one of my brothers
instead of giving even just one
to me.