Creature Speak

Friends always say,
“Of course!”
when they promise to
keep in touch,
keep the friendship alive,
when a new mate is found.

But I know you.

Your hunger is
so big,
you struggle often
to be anything else,
and it’s hard to think
when you’re starving.

I know starving.

Her name is Diana,
you said.
You have long conversations
and she encourages you.
Fires on the beach,
your secret forests
and hilltops for her.

And your poems.
Oh, Stars, your poems.

And your guitar,
and your shoes always on,
and your tune always
pulling from the whispers
hidden in the wind,
on the lips of men,

in the hearts of women.

She is writing poems
to you, too, you said.
Blazing pages, to and fro,
writing the laws on
your hearts.
And she is good for you,
I am sure.

Diana is a perfect name, I say.

The Goddess, The Huntress,
mate to the White Stag:
you, with your pale skin
and your yellow-fire hair.
The ancient Celts believed
Deer is a link to the arts:
poetry and music in particular.

Therefore, it is written;

You shall be graceful
conquering heroes
of the quest for The Muse!
And I may hear from you
in the next life,
when the hunt begins again.

But I’m not coming back.

So when you wield your bow,
your strings, your words,
together with hers now
in your hunt for each other,
remember to listen
to the wind.

Maybe I’ll bless you

from the hereafter
and send you a gift;
An arrow for the hunt:
a song pulled from
the lips of men and
the hearts of women.

And you will both
always be fed.

~Sheyorah Aossi, 11/8/18

Copyright © 2018 Season Naify Braswell

Art: Diana of the Hunt by Nancy Chien-Eriksen