SAPPHO: The Poetess of Greece

SISTERS AROUND THE WORLD, March 2008, by Rose


SAPPHO
The Poetess of Greece


It is the second day of the week's end, and I am sitting atop a stage in a manor house in Mytilene, the capital city of the Island on which I live, Lesbos.

"On the throne of many hues, Immortal Aphrodite, child of Zeus, weaving wiles--I beg you not to subdue my spirit, Queen, with pain or sorrow"

I strum my lyre as I recite, weaving my poetry in with the melody of my instrument. Across the dining hall I can feel all the eyes on me, the mysterious woman who chooses to write her own verses rather than read others. They are captivated and I am at peace.

One of the most celebrated female artisans of the time, Sappho of the Isle of Lesbos was said to have been born between 630 and 612 B.C.E Obviously since she lived so long ago, not much can be retrieved about the event in her life, only silly rumours, which may or may not be true. What is known about Sappho is that she was a master of poetry. One of the more circulated rumors about Sappho says that she fell in love with a man name Phaon and when he rejected her, she jumped off a cliff named the Leucadian rock and died. But what is known in truth is that she was hailed by many celebrities of early history such as Plato who called her the "Tenth Muse". On her home on the Isle of Lesbos, it became fashionable for women of higher status to come together in groups or circles to learn about art and literature, among other things. Years after her death, although we do not know when it was, Sappho's poetry was found in Egypt on papyrus wrapping mummies, coffins, and sacred animals. What a tangled mystery! Sappho lead one of the first revolutions to women finding their true place in society, the driver's seat.

At the end of my poem there is a brief silence and then a burt of rapturous applause. Lord Nautilus, head of the household stands and shouts, wine glass aloft, "Such wonderful verses could not come from the mouth of any man, so be it!". He sits, burying his face in the wine, is most dear friend. I smile and cover my mouth to hide a laugh and step down. Conversation has begun, though many eyes still linger on me, "the Poetess".

From the corner of my eye I see Megara, Atthis, and Tessipia, all women of my circle, approach with familiarity only gained from spending multiple hours together every week. We speak of art, theatre, politics, and ofcourse, the art of poetry. Conversations always lead some way or another to the rising of the female and the tasks to be done to ensure that.

Megara whispers in my ear, "You ofcourse are the very same woman who Plutarch praised 'the grace of her poems act upon her listeners like an enchantment".

"Yes, most enchanting," smiles Tessipia.

"It may be so," I say to all of them, "but I am no hedgewitch. I deal no more in enchantments than any of you, simply the language of quill and pen." They laugh, knowing my jokes lie in the triumph of finishing my seventh volume of poetry today. It is my crowning glory, making the night more radiant than ever, for I write of the everyday; love, reflection, and life. We women of the circles joke that none of the men could handle what we reflect upon, and therefore leave them out of all te proceedings. We are learning to take our destinies into our own hands.

Tomorrow three new girls are coming to our circle from the mainland. Their mothers wish for them to be taught in the arts, and trust me, we have ample knowledge of that. If stories are true, there is a magic at work in Lesbos.

Imagine being able to come to a place where it is haven from the world outside. Imagine becoming one of the first female celebrities of the time. It must have been quite a pressure to be at the center of attention for the rise of the female.

You have the chance to spread your message in your life. Choose what that is and flaunt it like its nobody's business. Remember to explore the possibilities and the gifts you have around you, and connect with your other Sisters Around the World.

~ Rose

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