A Shooting Star Over the Laurel Tree
All I wanted was to play in the water,
The glistening water under the crescent moon,
To frolic and giggle in the wilderness
Untamed and untouched
The beauty blessed upon me
Was never meant for hunting eyes to see
But it was always meant to be an extension
A muted, mirrored version
Of nature’s picturesque quality
I vowed to her, you know
The protector of young girls
How ironic now
Her own blood, her other half,
Took a glimpse at me
Saw nothing else but a trophy
His touch was always meant to burn
Water and fire just do not mix
I tried to dive underwater
But how can one ever hide from the Sun?
I ran and I ran
Thorns pierced through my feet
My poor, unrelenting body
What kind of father was He?
He, himself flowing freely
Through the great Thessaly,
Took my ability to move from me
“This is the only way to be free”
“This is the only way to remain clean”
Here I am, forever stiff and evergreen
I can no longer weep
But dew collects on my leaves
I feel your touch through the bark
Can a God hear my leaves?
Hear them scream in resentment
Constantly forced to have a place on his head
Is it an act of grief?
Or are you victorious?
But every star dies
Sun, too, will one day fall
People these days
I hear they write wishes on dried bay leaves
Perhaps I finally became a beacon of hope
I cannot grant wishes but I wished for so long
That when you burn out
You will finally forget me
Daphodile is a sociology and political science student and full-time overthinker. Lover of things beautiful and macabre, tragic and funny. This poem is a part of an ongoing poetry series about giving voice to the misunderstood and misused women of Greek mythology.
Featured image by Rosario Esposito la Rossa on Unsplash.
