I will make this a Hellenistic hymn to all my ancestors

who believed in the twelve Olympian gods. We had to

memorize them in Greek school, learn how to write

them, practice our diction to continue the traditions

of people I never met. We learned that  Zeus and Hera

were the Queen and the King and everyone that came

after did so with intentions to create this world of caves,

darkness, silent roads,  mountains that reach the

sky. I learned to see mirrors in rivers. I was taught that

stories can corrupt my mind into believing myths

as real. So young, even Hercules became my idol and

my hero. Who can compete with the gods? No mere

mortal man could ever win my heart. I wanted the

top of the echelon. I wanted my own Zeus, who created

the world out of chaos. Who else could tame my soul?

All these hymns for the hopeful left me breathless

for such intrigue and adventure, not even Aphrodite

could have the visions of beauty I imagined. She

took hold of my body and showed  me how to dream

the imaginable. Could you see how I became another

person in my mind, the one that spoke to Goddesses

in Ancient Greek and touched the sky with her

fingertips? Artemis guided me to the moon, to hunt

for my solitude, to hide from all the demons claiming

to be on my side. I learned about deception, betrayal,

brotherhood and sisterhood through the ancient ways

and much like others I became invisible. People mocked

me, sold their adventures to me as golden tickets. All

these leaps, I have taken for no one but my ancient

soul that saw the constellations up close from a

chariot in the sky, along with eleven other friends.


20 thoughts on “Hymns for the Hopeful

  1. 🙂
    “…I sing of Artemis, whose shafts are of gold, who
    cheers on the hounds, the pure maiden, shooter of stags, who
    delights in archery, own sister to Apollo with the golden sword.
    Over the shadowy hills and windy peaks she draws her golden bow,
    rejoicing in the chase, and sends out grievous shafts. The tops
    of the high mountains tremble and the tangled wood echoes
    awesomely with the outcry of beasts: earthquakes and the sea also
    where fishes shoal. But the goddess with a bold heart turns
    every way destroying the race of wild beasts: and when she is
    satisfied and has cheered her heart, this huntress who delights
    in arrows slackens her supple bow and goes to the great house of
    her dear brother Phoebus Apollo, to the rich land of Delphi,
    there to order the lovely dance of the Muses and Graces. There
    she hangs up her curved bow and her arrows, and heads and leads
    the dances, gracefully arrayed, while all they utter their
    heavenly voice, singing how neat-ankled Leto bare children
    supreme among the immortals both in thought and in deed….”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I am always mesmerized by your poetry and muse, Chrissy. The Titans and Olympians have guided me most of my life. I think the ancient Greeks that still call from my DNA touched the true nature of humankind with their divine mythology. If we have a soul it is in this irreducible nature of darkness and light and our connection to the elements of the grand chaos in the universe, which they defined far better than those before or after them. Perhaps you are an epithet of Artemis or the child descendant of Aphrodite and Endymion; a daughter of the Ancients. Who can say, but you?

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I think I had one of those moments, Apologies for the bafflement. I really meant to say, how much I enjoyed the poem and that you are truly gifted to connect so well with your poetry.

        Liked by 1 person

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