by Livia

She stands tall as a young fir,
head and shoulders above the rest,
and calls me
to an uncanny solitude

Laws of the city
do not fall on Her.
She is ever-distant wildness.
A foreign logic rules Her realm.

Turn towards her again and again,
with ever fiercer caring,
She remains ever-distant,
Always beckoning...and
Midwifing my losses.

Though she stands as tall
and straight as a young fir,
She cannot be seen
without grace.

When I think of Artemis,
I feel a sweet poignant longing in my soul.
Most sweetly, it is in the wilderness,
There everything seems charged with Her...
in a heightened sense of awareness...
the breeze is caressing...
I could almost hear Her voice in the pines,
See Her in the shadows, standing tall.
I can almost sense where She is---there---just barely out of my vision.
I could almost walk up to Her...
I ancient times the woman ran to the forest
to be with Artemis in the moonlight.
She has so many names Eileithyia, Diktinna, Leto, Hekate.
She is always Artemis to me...both Virgin Huntress and Terrible Wisdom of the Crone.

Driving through old forest ...I ask"Is She here?"
and I drive along thinking...
"There by that old redwood...She is..."
"There near those ferns...She is..."

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For Artemis