Pandora

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Pandora

She fingers the box,
tracing the patterns of its carving,
the wooden whorls of intricacy,
turning it, inspecting it,
wondering.

Containment is the essence of knowledge,
naming, the limitation of fear.

She lifts it in her hand,
weighing its mystery,
wanting to know but afraid,
dreading the doom of “or else,”
the unknown trapped in her hand
and freed in her mind.

Purchase is valid only when the price is agreed;
all else is theft equally divided.

Curiosity would have her pry into the box,
lifting the lid of innocence;
retribution holds tight the clasp,
without lock but sealed with warning.
She wavers,
torn,
between revelation and submission.

Reason advises the gift of ignorance is no gift at all;
what use the question never answered?

She lifts the lid.


Line count: 25
Free verse
For Dark Dreamscapes Poetry Contest, Week 3 October 2021
Prompt: #1.