Artemis
by Nina C Pelaez
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.