Thetis' Daughter

After millennia of swimming the waters of the world,
Having had enough time to find every inlet and the source of every spring,
Follow their course, the beautiful girl became bored.
Why should only men (such as her brother Achilles) win glory, human acclaim?
So many bards and scholars and books and trees had gone to Achilles
While she was frolicking about the depths of Oceans.
She had set herself the task of mapping the bottom of the seas,
And she would give her maps to the humans,
In exchange for honor, just a little mention of herself in those parchments.
She was sure that the temporary mortals
Could never plumb the abyss of her oceans and survive.

Her task had taken her longer than she had thought it would.
When at last she lifted her head above the waters of the California coast,
She saw so much light that at first she took fright.
She had expected darkness, animals, caves and fires. But this was amazing!
Land was no longer land, for mortals made many new things themselves:
They could build structures greater than caves and mountains;
They could move without walking, in pretty little things with chariot wheels,
Or on grooved rails, but the little baskets moved by themselves!
Strange things that were not friends of hers crossed the skies!
(She had heard that Vulcan had made things that could move when called —
Perhaps he had given this gift away.)

But most intriguing to her girlish heart were ow mortals appeared,
How pleasing their forms, flowing garments, marvelous waves of jewels.
Their speech was melodious, as were the sounds of musical instruments
That far surpassed the familiar lyre, and those silly reed pipes.
She was ravenous for more — here was ambrosia for all her exalted senses,
She who had sipped boiling ambrosia from her mother's hands.

Thetis swam to her wandering child, gave full voice to a mother's fears:
Like her boy Achilles, the Nereid daughter
Might suddenly become subject to the laws of mortality.
Her mere beauty could fade; she could age; she might even cease
If unable to immerse herself in the salt of parental seas and be revivified.
But the mermaid would not be dissuaded.
She had done all she could in the waters of old legends;
Here was an acceptable choice, for one so restless, curious.
In this hunger for knowledge, she was like her grandfather, Nereus.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In California, one day, people began to notice a beautiful girl named Esther Williams.
Water was her natural element – she had known it since she first walked into the sea.
Her family, like so many others, had come out of the nowhere that was America
After World War I, after the Great Depression, trekked west
With their dreams of show business, fame (and money) and a beautiful, gifted son.
But the youth died in a freakish accident; the daughter must replace the son.
The ambitious mother persuaded their penny-pinching prewar neighbors
To build a community swimming pool, which her Esther would then inaugurate.
The cameras were always ready! First snapshots! In Hollywood, anything is possible.
She won races, gained fame in sports circles, and her diadem – the camera loved her beauty.

Esther swam faster, better, more beguilingly, than anyone known.
She had planned to compete in the 1940 Olympics, but was content with aquacades.
She thought she could not sing, dance, or even act — but she did not need to:
Beauty is queen, and all in Hollywood bow to it and the camera's favorites and the money.
Notice was taken in cinema studios: her films were popular, and revenue is power.
She won fame for her deeds. (In Hollywood, power brings fame, and vice versa.)
Esther, now a silver-screen goddess, kept on doing brave things no mere girl would do,
For anything is possible for mermaid in her element.
The coincidences and accidents of Fate accumulated many bright lights for her,
As well as medals and trophies (cups, husbands, movies)
to reflect them.

Then, just as suddenly, her river's course of successful movies was run:
Human times and tastes never stay the same for long.
The glamorous lights turned away from her;
The men who run Hollywood turned away from her;
The public (hydra-headed, Argus-eyed) stopped looking in her direction.
Worst of all, money flowed away from her. In Hollywood, anything is possible.
She packed herself up one afternoon, left her studio and drove home
While still a movie star, still a beauty, still at the top of her form.
She let it all go out with the tides, and married the handsome mortal she fancied.
She lives quietly now, out of the camera's range, er house in California's belle aire,
Happily married, enough money, all the comforts aging humans want.
Blessed.

Someday notice of her death will appear everywhere: print, teletrons, web sites.
But I will always believe that she has made her way
To the waiting waters of her parents' lives,
Disports in the waves, shining again in the beauty of legend, still curious, still brave.
In the realm of Ocean, anything is possible.

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