By Donna

I’m a good girl,
except for this one thing…
I am in love with Orion.
I never removed the ring
as he pursued—
his actions uncontested.
Again and again he roped
my stubborn horns
gaining strength each time
the night waves goodbye.

Clinging to sweet tongue.
Praying for the fever to break,
unhappy when it does,
jilted by his inaction
holding on
without reciprocity
bending backwards
into vow-less principles
as Angels show
disapproval accordingly.

Then like the game of tag
the Hunted now
becomes the Hunter.
The battle begins in plain site
with no witness to the exchange.
Only the stars see
and only the stars know
that the past bleeds
into the present
until we get it right.

Surveying the stacks of time
forever gone
days, months, years
turning the tides,
exposing guilt to the surface—
floating like a cork in water.
Examining actions
of things I ought not do
and becoming a person
I ought not be.

Feral thoughts.
Reckless decisions.
Negating assurances
of a white picket fence…
and of a comfy life.
Like life,
beneath the layers of
surface solids and family pain,
I am complicated…
unexpectedly melancholy
sensitive to energy
and the meaning of
living in my truth
while mimicking
status quo of perfection.

Look inward or to the southern sky
for the fight;
the Bull versus the Hunter
the prelude to my survival
the shedding
like trees preparing for
a long winter,
reducing leaves,
the parts
that bring no value.
So keep vigil.
As the old sweetness fades
and disappear into the horizon,
the cleansing begins.
I grow exponentially
embracing
forgiveness as
my victory badge.