Artemis

To Apollo on the Death of Orion

My heart aches today in a way I have never felt before and long to never feel again. I had hoped to avoid this feeling. This emptiness and ongoing sadness. Will it never cease? The stars above are a constant, agonizing reminder of what never will become. Tears cannot quell the damage wrought by my own hands. These hands I once took such pride in now bloodstained and shaking with woe.

Why deceive me now, Apollo? Have I ever wronged you so?

Alas, forgiving you is easy, dear brother, for my love for you still remains.

If only I could forgive myself.

The Gifts

I beg of you, dear honorable father, Zeus. Do not force me to marry. Spare me the hurt so many others before me have endured. My happiness will not come from matrimony, but from the freedom of the wild instead.

I do not wish to be a lover for my heart is my own. I have no desire to be a wife, for freedom cannot be found under the control of a man and his ever-changing whims. I have no need to be a mother for my children are the creatures of the forest who are always in need of my divine presence.

Grant me the indulgence of making my own choices. Let me forever run freely through the forests with my beloved deer at my side. Allow me the gifts of chastity and pride. 

The Arrow-Pouring Maiden

Inspired by the Homeric Hymn to Artemis

I am called many things. The Arrow-Pouring Maiden. Sister of the Far-Shooter. Lady of the Wild Things. Mistress of the Animals. The Huntress. The Archeress. The Protectress. Guardian of the Amazons. Aider in Childbirth. Selene of the Moon. Phoebe of the Light. Hecate of the Darkness. Diana of the Woodlands. Artemis of the Golden Reigns. Daughter of Zeus and Leto. The eternal virgin swore to chastity by my own means. I am all of these things and free to do as I please.

Actaeon

He ran from me, trapped in the hart’s body I had placed him in. He came upon my presence as I was bathing, by no accident I am sure. He ran swiftly, gracefully, fluidly. He came upon his hounds in a glorious burst of speed. They ran in abundance, droves of canine . They came upon him in quick succession, claws and teeth abound.

Niobe

Mother is distraught. The Queen of Thebes dared to insult her and now it is up to Apollo and I to seek vengeance. Fourteen children she boasted of in blasphemy. Seven boys to be struck down with my brother’s arrows of gold. Seven girls to be slain by my arrows of silver. The queen weeps even before our arrows hit their marks. Her tears run rampantly, thus evoking Mother’s avengement.