[Editors’ Note: Learn about how the “Nine Poets Speak” series came to be in place here.]
Laurel tree: https://stockadobe.com
I don’t know what I miss more
the running or the singing
Yet, I delight in the birds choosing me as their singing perch
I welcome the breezes that rustle my hair
Yes, I still think of all these leaves as my hair
though now it is evergreen and much more fragrant
than when it streamed black and long against the wind
as I ran blissful and free before he came
I have so many more limbs now than I once did
all reaching to heaven as when I raised my arms
to call upon Peneus, god of the river, my own father,
who heard my plea
I should be grateful, I suppose, for his rescue
I remember how he’d ask from his bed of waters
“Am I never to have a grandson?”
I, running off to deep woods,
singing a hymn to Diana, answered
“Father, let me be like Diana
I have made my vow
I want only freedom”
I never wanted lovers, earthly or divine,
Yet, the sun-lit god came to me one day
as I sang in these same grasses
he was beautiful and arrogant,
so like these athletes who now wear my hair
and lean against me and preen,
I tried to explain my vow
but he grew larger and fiery
he forced himself upon me
angry that I could spurn the god of poetry
I fought and ran swifter than ever toward the river
Apollo gained on me
I felt his hot breath upon my neck
he was a fingertip away
my arms upraised I cried
“Father, help me!”
at once I could not move
my legs took root and turned to wood
green shoots bloomed from my hands
my hair lifted itself to sprout these sturdy leaves
Ah, how the god of music screamed
as he touched my breast
and felt the hard, brown bark
I was stunned but still alive
my vow, my chastity, intact
Apollo caressed my trunk, bright tears filled his eyes
he mourned, “I love you and you are lost to me forever”
then, his body gleamed red and gold, as he plucked my hair
with my leaves in his hands he declared,
“You are my tree, my laurel,
my heroes, my victors, my poets
shall wreathe their brows with you
you are still my triumph”
He smiled and was gone and I’ve never seen him since
I may be his triumph but I was not defeated
though I lost my name and am
no longer Daphne of the woods
I am still beloved by Diana
She taught me much over the long years
I see without eyes and hear without ears
I hear distant storms and the steps of ants
I know the intention of the hound
and scan the moods of the human heart
I have won my honor among the trees,
the learned, and the wise
Apollo fades and I endure
I am grateful for the gifts of the goddess
I am proud of the homage of men
Still,
I don’t know what I miss more
the running or the singing.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Maria Famà – Return to Mago E*Magazine