Ananke

Ananke from Mount Olympus,
seldom seen and rarely heard,
pads amid the hurly-burly,
the noontime surging wave,
peddling masks to the needy,
the frenzied, the worn-too-thin.
Summing up what she sees,
she chooses faces for each one
hurtling by as arrows fly.
Knowing how to catch an eye,
return a stare, beckon without
gesturing, she moves among
the anxious-to-buy in a trade
that is hers alone. Her identity?
Goddess of necessity
dressed as a nonentity,
peddling bright new faces,
never lacking for buyers.

Her masks change appearance,
add buffer states to the journey.
Caught by the glint in her eye,
her artless commanding eye,
buyers buy and ask, “Your name?”
“Ananke,” she says, moving on,
keeping her counsel. Why explain,
“A Greek name for necessity”
to someone who has a new face?
Her buyers have lives to live,
graves to dig, paid for masks
in their bags, fine new attitudes
with which to conquer life ahead.
Beguiled to have been beguiled,
they join the noonday crowd,
confidence in life renewed,
never regretting the price
of a face in the marketplace.