The Logos of Artemis
Cruel Men of Greece, how you preen, how you prance.
At the city that once paid me honors, you scream your triumph
and Laugh over the scattered coals. Unthinking of me
and those that have run to my greatest temple.
You dare not follow them there, for outside
your walls and fires, beyond the reach of your spears
do my arrows wait in contemplation.
You think to please me by giving up that which you value.
Your child, even, you offer unto me and swear
that nothing is to dear to be offered if it slake
the righteous wages for your desires
So, you burned the city, and stuffed your sacks.
Not one earned coin lay among your booty
And not one moment of rest shall you enjoy
for the memories of those you have wronged
will lay in the forests and the trees.
They shall shrink from you as you take
Seeking ever to plumb the secrets
Of that which chooses to deny you
your oh so glorious wisdom and ritual.
For when I set my own feet upon the battlefield
my mother reminded me that it was not my place.
For it is the sport of proud and strong men
who run to besiege the gates of Hades.
Bitter tears did I weep at the injustice,
For I wished to strike at the heart
Of those that would do my domain harm
And laugh as my beasts took sustenance.
But I looked upon the field and saw my friends
cut down one by one. I saw the futile struggle
And then I let loose an arrow from hiding
and struck down the heroes with the softest release
For that is the way that you will be hurt.
Not upon the field where you stand proud
but as you sail home. Your glory turned
to the darts and stones of the beaten.
For you have won nothing, save the multitude
of filth flung at your back, the icy stare
of a woman who falsely claims to love your violation
and the swelling of the ranks of my attendants.