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Orion
The ancients told a story of the hunter of the skies. Orion was a giant, and he was a hunter — a great hunter, from which no beast could escape. He killed with a club and a jeweled sword, and he could walk on water. Orion once rid an island of monsters — lions, wolves, and boars — because he had been promised the daughter of a king, a fine possession, for his effort. The king turned on Orion when the task was completed and gouged out Orion's eyes to keep him from seeking revenge or taking his daughter. But the hunter Orion was favored by the fates. He was led by a boy to the East, and the rays of the rising sun restored his sight. Orion rushed back to the island with revenge in his heart — but the king had seen his approach on the horizon and had fled. Orion's thoughts turned easily and quickly back to the chase and the hunt, and he soon forgot the king and his daughter. He met the Queen of the Hunt and became the only man that she had ever held dear, for he was a perfect hunter and carried a beauty that made all love him. All, that is, but the King of the Sky. He was the Queen's twin brother, and he hated Orion for the Queen's favor. His jealousy caused him to set upon Orion a giant scorpion when the Queen was gone. The club and jeweled sword could do no harm to the scorpion's armor. Orion turned to run and flee, but the scorpion's tail pierced his heel and the poison killed him. The Queen returned from her travels to find her friend and fellow hunter dead; yet she could not be angry at her twin for long. Together they hung Orion in the sky, and he became a constellation that would sit forever and never be forgotten. It was said that the constellation of Orion hung over winter seas and frightened away the cloud as if they were beasts — but that in summer the scorpion rose, a gathering of stars, and Orion would falter and flee over the horizon. Orion was the creation of the Greeks, their name for a group of stars floating though the universe. On the first day of my life my parents held me between them and my mother named me Orion. As I grew I heard the story of my namesake a hundred times, from my mother, from my father, from the book of myths that they bought me the year I learned to read. God never says my name. He does not need to, it seems. We are two beings in one existence, and we are always together. There are no names — there is only me and you and us. My name is all that I have that is mine — it is the only thing that is untouched by God. I tell myself the story of Orion so that I do not forget that one thing. I tell it in sentimentally and for memories, and it is foolish. I am beginning to forget it, for all of my efforts. The story has faded in my mind and pieces have begun to leave me. What was the name of the Queen of the Hunt? What was the name of the King of the Sky? How did Orion find the boy that led him to the sun? Why was Orion a giant, and who were his parents? Little by little the story slips away, and soon all that I will know is that I was once named after the hunter of the skies. But for now I can delight in the power and aptness of my namesake. I, too, am Orion — or I was, once. Orion who hunted animals came back in I who hunted humans. How I loved to watch, to observe, to understand every detail of those that caught my interest. I once hunted hearts. Nathan, he adored me, he sheltered me, he cared for me. My mother thought me half a God. Sophia believed that she owed me her all. Gabriel held his heart out to me in open hands. There were always others, drawn to me as people were drawn to Orion of the Greeks. When I was thwarted, there were others to hold my interest. When I was turned away, there was always another distraction. I do not regret who I was — I do not regret anything that I have ever done. It was in my nature to hunt, and that was all. I was not hateful, I did not punish, I was not intentionally cruel — I only watched and wanted and conquered, and more often than not I was loveable and soft and sweet. Orion did not hate the beasts, he only hunted them. How similar we are — or were. Orion was admired for his skill at the hunt, and I was admired for the swiftness with which I worked my way into the heart. Orion hunted with a club and a jeweled sword, and I had both honesty and beauty. Like Orion of the skies, I, too, stole the favor of a deity. The Greeks gave Orion the Queen of the Hunt, my world gave me God — for He favored me as He had favored none before me and has favored none since. Then comes the point where that mythic Orion and I turn down different paths. That Orion was weak, and he was killed. The King of the Sky hated Orion, but while many wondered and some worried, none hated me. That Orion ran from his scorpion, but I embraced mine and committed sin and touched the skin of God. He hung in the sky a dead man but I hang as the consort of He who created us all. The stars that are Orion will slowly shift and change and his constellation will fade, but I will be here until the last moment of time. Who art in heaven — and I am there, now, with the scorpion. I am strong where that hunter was weak. But in the end, our fate is the same. He hangs in space and runs from his scorpion, but the stars lock him to his place and he cannot flee. I, too, am here, in the heavens, and although I look at God with no love I am with Him, trapped, and I cannot run away. I was named well. Hunter in the sky, loved by a god, brought to ruin by a god, haunted by a god, held by a god. His hair is as soft as strands brushed a thousand times, yet only I ever touch it. His mysteries are more glory than a thousand lifetimes will ever see. His kiss makes the very skin burn. I cannot hate Him for what He is or what He has done to me. I can only stand near Him, study Him, and tell myself the story of the hunter of the skies. |