Her Woeful Instrument
Artemis unslings her bow,
The huntress selecting an arrow
From her finely wrought quiver
As an artist would select a brush
For his next masterpiece.
Filled with the power of the divine
She dips the tip in poison
With the same care Prometheus
Carried the fire of the gods
To the children of the Earth.
The arrowhead is stained red,
Red with the poison
Red with what is yet to come.
And done with her craft,
The goddess tenderly gathers up
Her woeful instrument.