Orion: In Memoriam by Jacob Tashoff

And lo, ‘twas mighty Apollo the Sun who bore the challenge to the giant Orion, the companion of Artemis, the huntress, to slay the beast at sea, and to Artemis the Moon fell the same challenge, to slay the beast at sea, but the beast was Orion the hunter, and Artemis’s aim fell true, and the giant was slain by the goddess’s shimmering arrow.

In all likelihood, it was probably the pull of the moon that had us out on the edge of the cliff,
I blame it on the wayward soul of a deep-woods hunter I had encountered four years back
in an alley between two apartment buildings in Chinatown. Souls who hadn’t learned to let go
lived vicariously though my wandering spirit, but you said,
That’s ridiculous, and I had said, I’ve never been more offended in my life,
It’s the truth. He makes me want to do dangerous things, and you said,
What sort of dangerous things, and I kissed you by way of answering.
That’s probably where things started to fall apart.

Not in a bad way, not really, but your eyes were like blue black holes
grinding me to dust. You laughed after I kissed you and said, That wasn’t too dangerous.
Was it? It was. I never know if I’ll be able to stop myself
you’re too intoxicating. You grew quiet, and turned away from me
I thought maybe I’d said too much, but you curled my hand into yours,
pulled me closer to you, and that reassured me.
It didn’t make the fall any easier, though.

My brother never liked you, which I think is crazy, because
I’ve never met two people more similar. Maybe he felt you were competition, he’d always been
my best friend until I met you, and started doing everything with you instead.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get him to forgive me for that, but he did come with me today.
Maybe there is hope. You’d say that there definitely is even though he was always rude to you,
I think you two would’ve been really good friends if we’d had the time to make it there.
I still blame myself for all of this.

Too many days I sit hating myself for being the reason I have to stand up here.
Talk to you without you being able to tell me that everything is going to be alright and hug me
until I stop crying, but that’s never going to happen again. I know I will never get used to not having you
next to me to hold my hand during scary movies or wrap your arms around me
breathe soft and slow as you fall asleep next to me.
God—that’s the hardest part of this whole thing. Sometimes I wish we’d never met.

If I hadn’t found you, I wouldn’t be half the person you helped me to become.
Maybe you’d still be alive, happy out there with someone else. Thinking about could-have-beens
and what-ifs isn’t going to change reality, and I hope I’ll learn to accept that.
For now, I’ll wipe these tears from my face, and stand strong, look for that silver lining.

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Photo: Bryan Goff