Missing Orion

This past summer, I have been distraught to realize that I can't find Orion. My favorite constellation, once because it was the only one I could locate regularly, now because he's always in the sky, year round, and what better symbol for this love struck woman than the ultimate Man constellation? The only guy who's always there, no matter what's going on. So you can imagine my frustration when over the past summer, away from my family and friends, I can't find my boy stars a single night. There are witnesses for how long and hard I have searched the skies many nights. And the few I could recruit to try and help me were unable to, as well. I know this is ridiculous, an entire constellation cannot just vanish (imagine the astrology buffs, they'd probably have an aneurism). But even now, in the fall, I still cannot locate my constellation.

This has made me consider my position with boys, and how this event is, in a way, symbolic of my life right now. For as long as my memory stretches back into the past, I have had romantic interests in boys. Yes, even in preschool, there was that one boy in the playground that I would secretly wish would play with me. I have never been without a crush or romantic interest, however unrequited it would be. As I have never been unable to identify and locate Orion. But in college, there are new dynamics. It's no longer enough to date. People here have a PURPOSE. I was horrified to learn that a boy I was trying to flirt with was married! This was a new thing for me to have to be aware of and sensitive to.

Thus, over the past year, I have had fewer romantic interests, and they have had the question over them, "will he be the One?" a new question, but one inspired and encouraged by the matrimonial environment that I have found myself in. And each boy that I have put on my list of potential mates has been given to someone else. One is engaged, another dating, both very serious. Just as I can find no unattached boy that I had my heart set on, so I can no longer find my Orion in the sky.

I have always known that my preoccupation with boys has distracted me from God. I had a very heartfelt conversation with Him over the summer, asking for His help. To which, I got a very mixed signal. Since then, I forgot about my desire to no longer put boys ahead of God, and thus, the second boy on my list of potentials was found to be crossed off. Every boy I reach for, God gives to another girl, just as deserving, though more in tune with the Holy One. And I am reminded of my request for help. I need to stop searching for Orion. I need to be content that every star that God made is equally beautiful and worthy. And when it is the right time, when I am ready for him, God will reveal Orion to me.

The Library

Arrow on the string,
I enter the jungle wild.
Not to return
Until I've faced my trial.

Swimming across the stream
Where natives pole past,
I reach the foot of the cliff
Where years ago, I may have retreated, aghast.

But now with skill
I silently scale the rock.
Anticipating what I may find
When I reach the top.

Another forest
Laced with trails aplenty,
Aimed to discourage,
But it falters not my smile of glee.

Stalking up some,
Abandoning others,
I sniff out my prey
Ignoring its brothers.

Passing fellow hunters
My heart begins to race.
Did they already find my prize?
Make the kill in this place?

Worried now, I increase my pace.
Where, oh where, is my trophy?
Finally I spot its den
Watching it recline, free.

Eye along the sight
My goal's life I take.
Hesitate a moment,
Then also capture its mate.

Carrying my kill proudly
Back down the cliff,
Across the river,
Backtracking my trip.

I stop for a moment
At the native outpost,
Showing them my catch,
Trying hard not to boast.

Finally back into the world
I go, taking note of a pretty
catch I'd seen, that would make
a good prize on my next journey.

History in my hand

Watching the sun start to sink
I wonder how many before me
have also sat upon the beach
and waited for the end of day.

Digging my hand into the sand,
I think about what sand is made of:
dirt, skin, crushed shells, washed
ashore by the waves for thousands of years.

Sitting there, by myself,
I imagine all the sunken ships and their treasure,
the generals and kings, buried and decayed,
falling into the sea to be transported here.

Holding in my hand, fragments of our history
I consider my earthen vessel,
one day to join these heros and cowards,
to mingle my dust with theirs
and join eternity.