Member-only story

I Set My Sights and Aim the Arrow On High

Prose Poetry

Jillian Spiridon
2 min readOct 29, 2021

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Photo by Joanne Reed from Pexels

gods never meet their makers, nor do they crouch before the lesser mortals who bow before them — always yielding before the power that leaves the greatest mark

but still I lie in wait, like a hunter to the chase, my bow at the ready to let fly an arrow that will meet the whim of a body bowing before the weight of threat — piercing and condemning in all the swiftness of one motion

you believe in fickle things, like the winds of the sky and the worms of the earth, but I put my trust in fate marked by the hands of Fortune and Death alike — these reapers we don’t acknowledge until it is too late to bargain (if that ever worked at all)

the truth is that the gods don’t care for us, if they ever did once in their long and soulless lives, and we are ever at the mercy of their blades lying right at our necks — ready to cleave us from this world as easily as if we had never been

but still I take this shot, just once in my sorry life, to aim for the birds that fly heaven-bound — that I may shoot down Zeus in his falcon’s suit of feathers, that he may plummet down to the ground and know what it’s like to die among the fallen leaves and their decay

you believe in your gods, if you will, that they will spare you when the time is right —…

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Jillian Spiridon
Jillian Spiridon

Written by Jillian Spiridon

just another writer with too many cats

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