Hymn to Artemis of the Drowned Birches
Mistress of beasts,
Whether weighty and waddling
Loping and lean
In the darkness of the slow-rising dawn
I call to you
*
The bears enter town here
The trash bins have locked lids
When I walk to class the forest presses up against the breaking spear tops
Of the Canadian Shield
And it whispers about the onset of frost
*
Goddess, this weather makes beasts of us all
As the mushrooms grow plump on the leaf layer rot
We are on our knees foraging –
Like any animal when the chill sets in
The low hanging rosehips and staining sumac
Are warnings: gather now
Or regret
*
I have always seen the graceful birch and thought of you
But the beavers by the lake have devastated them
Teeth marks so fresh the wood is discoloured
The beasts have dragged them into the water which sits still
(Deceivingly so)
And some are left rotting, shore stranded
The gluttonous ruins of this slow-building season
*
Someone told me once that birches were called widowmakers
For the rot in the inside is long hidden by the outer paper bark
Goddess, you must smile
(Being a widowmaker yourself)
For you know too well that eventually the paper falls apart to reveal that ever creeping death
Your sister-cousin has taken her first steps below the earth – you know this because:
How things begin to rot around you, mistress! How even the living begin to stink!
Send out your beasts, your holy hunting dogs
Let your hurried hungry arrows miss the crowns of every baby I catch this year
Let the mothers rejoice or mourn as they will;
I am with you, goddess, whatever comes.
Tag: the goddess
butterflieswithsnowflakesontop:
During your childhood, you believed that the moon was following you while you were sitting in the backseat of the car. As you grew older, you passed it off as a product of your wild imagination. Unbeknownst to you, the moon has actually been following you your entire life. You are the child of the moon.
I stared at the moon and I knew that the moon stared back at me.
Cold, tired, a tiny body bundled up in the back of a car. Quiet music on the radio fails to lull me to sleep, and so I stare at the silvery light, happy to feel bathed in the moon’s attention. It never moves further away, and so I imagine it’s following me. I am safe and protected as the moon watches me fall asleep.
I smiled at the moon, and imagined that the moon was smiling with me.
Older, smarter, but still young enough to dream silly dreams. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, dancing in the backyard still wearing my pajamas. I spin around and smile up at the sky. I whisper hello and pretend I hear it whisper back. I laugh and tell jokes and hope the moon stays close. It’s quite a bit later in the night when I finally crawl back in bed.
I screamed at the moon, but knew the moon couldn’t answer.
Too old to believe the moon could hear me, but young enough to still wish it could. Angry words, awkward feelings, with no one to talk to but the silvery globe whose light seemed to dim with sympathy. I want to stay angry, to keep venting my rage, but without a target it soon fizzles out. I finally walk back inside, slamming the door, shutting the moonlight out behind me.
I cried to the moon, and dreamed it could cry with me
Older, slower, everyday actions suddenly insurmountable tasks. I tell myself I’ll get better, and those around me nod and cheer me on. But out of the corner of my eyes I see solemn faces, and wet eyes. I pretend I don’t see, hiding away from the knowledge they hold of how little time I have left. I sneak out with weak, poorly balanced steps. I sit outside and look up at the moon and finally let myself cry. And in the quiet, in the dark alone. I can believe that the moon cries with me.
I smiled at the moon, and knew that the moon smiled back.
Too weak to stand, a small frail body bundled up in a hospital bed. Quiet music on the radio fails to drown out the noise of the bustling hallway. I’m too scared to close my eyes. I look up out the open window, bathing in the silvery light that the moon shines down. It seems close enough to touch, I reach out and grasp empty air. I smile brightly at the sky, feeling safe, and know in my heart that the moon is smiling at me too. I am safe and protected as the moon watches me fall asleep.
I said goodbye to the moon, but the moon just smiled and welcomed me back home.
😢😢😢
:c
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I’m actually crying
Plume de Lynx 