greek gods | what would they be? | a late-night thought

ares is nauseous. he wanders through the remains of a middle eastern elementary school and a city street brought to rubble by terrorists and feels sick. he’s stopped glorifying war a long time ago, this is not what fighting for your country should be like. no part of it is heroic or valiant or courageous. just senseless killing, so much senseless killing. he cradles a disfigured child in his arms and screams for it to stop.

zeus is bored. justice isn’t existent anymore. his charisma is fading, his cat-calls are growing increasingly more brash. he’s desperate for something he can’t put a finger on. he’s useless, disregarded, alone. and he’s beginning to realize that he’s in the wrong.

hera is angry. commitment has vanished, now she walks tall with her hands clenched in fists, confident in her own strength, ready to teach women about their own power.

poseidon is sick of having to rinse out pollution and chemicals from his water. his charm is being replaced more and more by his destructive temper, which he uses to fuel the storms that rage when he sees pirates and illegal traders crossing his path.

hades is too tired to anything more. every morning comes with another volley of deaths, even the nights are full of relentless work. the souls scream at him, their pasts haunting even his own mind. he is full of comforting words, a breath of peace, offering silent ease to the troubled. he wishes it would all just stop.

athena is split between two parts of the world. in one, she is in her glory. women and men work beside each other to educate and be educated; they are strong and brilliant and growing. but in the other she is weak and bone-tired. the senseless government and leaders are creating havoc, children are being killed for trying to learn, women are kept from an education. she is bitter and tired and simmering with rage.

hermes is thriving. there is no end to thievery, his words are being used by orators and political speakers all over the world, and he hardly cares about the damage they create, so long as he’s in business. 

apollo is clueless. his elements—music and art—are being appreciated, perhaps a little less than before, but still going strong. he spends time busking on street corners for the pure joy that it bring him, because that act of creation in such a destructive world is the ultimate happiness, because he can.

aphrodite is used, broken, and defeated. too many have taken advantage of her love, her heart has been shattered one too many times, her trust is gone and her walls are high. she no longer cares for epic poetry and tottering egos and bright lipstick; she hides herself under grungy clothing and dishevelled hair, hoping no one will stop and take notice.

demeter is hard at work growing and planting and improving and teaching others to do the same. if i don’t, she thinks, who will? so more trees are planted and more oxygen is made and she smiles and takes a deep breath and does it all over again.

dionysus is ashamed. he sees his gifts being abused and sees it affecting others. this is the hundredth time he’s had to step in between a drunken parent and their five-year old girl, the thousandth time he’s delivered another too-young soul to hades because of intoxicated driving and he wants it to just stop, why does he have to exist at all? his parties have dwindled and slowed to a stop, his carefree attitude has been replaced with a responsible frown and a headache.

artemis is brimming with victory. all over the globe women are becoming fiercer, stronger, more independent. she’s seen it happen centuries ago, but now it’s reviving and she’s glorious. 

hephaestus is worried. he loves to build and create and design, but he’s not the only one. there are structures and skyscrapers and houses being erected all over and it’s hard to keep count. he wonders if one day that’s all it will be—a heap of metal and wood and linoleum. 

hestia keeps the hearth fires warm with a slowly dying hope. her world is no more, and she can see the end.