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Artemis
by Nina C. Peláez

It   is  in  our  nature   to  name—
to  give  language,  bone  &  body 
to   even  that  beyond  its   reach. 
We  live beneath a stone  floating 
in  the  sky.   We   give  this  stone 
a  god. We  give that  god a  story.
The   god  carries   the    children 
to safety, transforms into a fawn
to  stave  off  shame. Much later,
the  name  of  the  god  becomes 
the   name  of  a   ship,   carrying 
men     and     women     through 
the   air,     toward     the     stone
in  the  sky.   It   is  not   possible 
for  our  eyes  to   see  the  colors
that  are  there:   blue  in   basalt, 
the   flames  of   iron.  For  years, 
a   man  takes  pictures  through
a   telescope,  stitches   them  all
together.   The  dust   must  tell 
its  own  story,  but   it  is   hard 
now to believe what we  cannot
see. The   poet’s   work   is   that
of  dreams.  A poet sees a bright
spot on  a  stone   and  names  it
for   a   beloved   who   is    gone.
We   live   on  a   stone    floating 
in  the  sky.  We  give  each   god 
a  stone.   Each    stone   has    its 
own   story   to   tell.   We  write 
the stories  in the dust.  In  time 
we   turn  from  stone to  stone,
building    ships   to    carry    us 
away  from   shame.  But   who
then  will  hold  the  names   of 
all   the    beloveds   even   after 
they  are   gone?    A  poet   sees
the    colors    that    are     there. 
Stitches   them   back  together. 
Bone  &    body   &    language.
We  gave the  gods  our  nature,
but  we  are   the  ones  floating
in the sky.  Each  of us, a  small
spot   dreaming   on   a   stone, 
straining  to  see  the  vibrance  
already refracting in our reach.
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Artemis by Nina C. Peláez
