“My beautiful son, with his kind eyes, his healer’s hands, his sun-warm demeanour. Somehow, he had inherited all my best qualities and none of the worst.“
It came like the impact of a body hitting the water. Then–
Everything became one blended cacophony of noise; one long, screeching shatter. The tones spreading out like a scattered drum riff, rounded out by metallic highs and creaking lows of the cars skidding, bending, and breaking.
And when the percussion ceased, the dull ringing in my ear rose in its place. The lantern streetlight glow and the neon reds and greens bleeding into the navy and the surface of the asphalt.
When I coughed out dust from the airbag, pain ripped into my chest.
I heard him cough, too. Dimly, I called his name. Dimly, I could see slack and then tension in the wrong places on his face.
“Apollo?”
In his next cough, I heard an urgent violence I did not hear in mine.
Where is my phone? Pocket.
Reaching sent another fire bolt through my chest. I reached anyway.
Dialing. Apollo gasped for air.
What was the emergency? –could have sworn it was green. What street were we on, again? Please hurry. Dial tone, dropped the phone. I turned to Apollo. Dimly, saw the red leaking onto his face.
“Help….coming…stay–stay–”
With his eyes blinking wide and the veins in his neck bulging, dimly, I could see all of his being struggling to stay, but slowly removing, removing, removing…
The last sound I heard from Apollo, I keep locked in a closet in the basement of my mind.
The first time we met I stood peeking out from behind the incense cedars and you were cloud-scattered sunlight flickering through the branches. Told me your mother named you Spear-Strength and I returned that my mother named me after the cold Pacific White Waves.
Traces of Apollo in your blood fire springing from your brow and I notice you pop out a cigarette to light whenever we get to the top of a mountain. Curry recipe in your hands and spurs clicking the ground at your heels with a red paisley cowboy kid look in your eyes. I seem to keep getting in your way in the kitchen.
smelling of: smoked paprika fresh-baked bread basket of wildflowers
The steel carabiners clink together like wind-chimes hung from our waists. Tied in to the stony crag where I hear you say I’m strong.
After three years I’m taking my vengeance on the split granite dome and when I finally reach the top I find you waiting like Sampson fast asleep but you jerk awake easily when I touch your hair and I start to wonder why I have the tendency to want to wake you up.
figure-eight knots eight-spotted american forester american kestrel
Tying feathers to my elbows and ankles I’ve got a nature to run into the sunset clouds to keep my legs from getting too restless at night. I know that in the end I’ll be running back through the doors every time but you’ve got a different type of restlessness don’t you and when I do come running back through the doors sweaty and red like I’d been chased by one of my recent nightmares you jump up with your guitar playing like you wanted to make me dance and singing like “It’s okay it was just a bad dream just go back to sleep.”
And after the day you told me “I know what it’s like to fall through the ice” I started thinking about how I could tell you that I know what it’s like because I’ve fallen through the ice too.
alternative folk // bluegrass punk // americana // new wave post-hardcore
Taking night walks to the docks to clear the noise from our heads got me thinking about the day we met and how you looked at me like sunlight. But you’re not the sun are you at least not in the sense of the springtime sunlight warming our faces but more like one of those pictures captured in space that we have to dim to see on a screen more like one of those pictures of a rough molten sphere so turbulent it bursts in flares at least every other day and I’m catching your reflection glances because I’m the moon phasing full churning up the tides into this rip current catching us red-handed.
When we dance we light up the sky.
the same universe for the brief –
So we will mostly undress. You started asking me about where I got my oceanid veins and I said it’s all about learning to kiss the face of chaos to catch a pure breath of peace but that’s when I started to remember I needed to come up for air.
See I’ve got this wild habit of keeping my foot off the brake when I’m driving the downhill curves and (I think I’m getting better at it but) every now and then I crash (turn and burn) and now (for five straight days) you’ve set forest fires on my mind so when you find the words to ask me how I slept last night I honestly gotta say that my spine aches from whiplash and I honestly gotta say that I’ve felt it before (hit and run). All I want to hear you promise me you won’t leave without saying goodbye.
please watch your step! your way out of the garden
“Apollo, of you even the swan sings with clear voice to the beating of his wings, as he alights upon the bank by the eddying river Peneios; and of you the sweet-tongued minstrel, holding his high-pitched lyre, always sings both first and last. And so hail to you lord! I seek your favour with my song.”
i’m graduating with a degree in art history in a few weeks and realized that even though my degree focuses on mythology in art, i’ve never made a post like this. here are my favorite pieces of art honoring Apollon.
In order: 1) Apollo and the Muses by John Singer Sargent, 1921, Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, rotunda mural; 2) Parnassus, or Apollo and the Muses by Simon Vouet, c. 1640, Museum of Fine Arts in Budapest; 3) Apollo in His Chariot by Herbert James Draper, c. 1908, Draper’s Hall, London; 4) Apollo and the Nine Muses by Tommaso Conca, 1782-87, Vatican Museum; 5) Apollo served by the Nymphs by Francois Girardon and Thomas Regnaudin, 1666-76, from the Versailles Gardens; 6) Apollo by John Cheere, 1755, National Palace of Queluz; 7) Apollo Crowning Himself by Antonio Canova, 1781-82, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles; 8) Apollo by Artus Quellinus, 1651, Royal Palace Amsterdam
I was casually skimming the textbook for my summer Latin course and my eyes landed on the sentence “Apollō mē saepe servat”, which translates to, “Apollon often saves me” - call me emotionally fragile but I cried a bit (a lot), especially since I’ve been having a bummer of a day. Praise be to Lord Apollon, always a savior to those in need of Him!
ok so i just saw a post saying that its disrespectful and what not to give the old gods scraps of food or irrelevant items or things you just have lying around that you didnt specifically buy or make for the gods. and i 110% disagree.
like i give dionysus my leftover sodas that have gone flat in my room, i give apollo the leftover orange peels i have lying around. its not thought out, theyre just my leftovers.
i gave thanatos and persephone my garden with my bone collection. i have a plant named bernard that i water for hera.
none of my gifts were made or bought or grabbed with the intent of giving. they just were given at the end. that doesnt mean im disrespecting them or giving them useless items. that doesnt mean they reject them.
I WAS JUST REREADING TOA AND I SAW THAT RICK DESCRIBES WHERE MEG AND APOLLO WALK TO GET TO PERCY SO I FOLLOWED THEM ON MAPS AND IT LED ME TO AN APARTMENT BUILDING THAT FITS THE DESCRIPTION SPREAD THE WORD WE HAVE HIS LOCATION
i wonder if thalia and artemis ever acknowledge the fact that they’re sisters. like we see apollo and jason acknowledge it, we see apollo come to see jason as his brave little brother who stood up to their father for him. like we have a whole scene of jason being like “i tried to talk to dad but he wouldn’t listen” and apollo is like “shit this kid and thalia are actually my siblings, i was flirting with my sister”. i just wanna know if artemis ever looks at thalia and is just like “she looks so much like dad” because thalia is the only who looks like him. Apollo, Artemis, and Jason are out here looking like the brady bunch but Thalia looks exactly like Zeus with her black hair and stormy grey blue eyes. or if there ever talking and they’re just like “oh well you know how dad is”
does apollo have roman children ?? because he only ever talks about his greek kids ? also one is to assume that should he have roman children the camp would’ve chosen an actual child of apollo as oppose to a legacy to take on octavian’s role. the lead healer there is also the son of asclepius not apollo. theres no mention of his children reaching out to him when he arrives at camp. like he can go on for paragraphs talking about will, kayla, and austin but like does he have other modern children because he never mentions them? are they all just like dead, like did they die in one of the wars like lee and michael
add on: the apollo cabin was one of the biggest cabins at camp along with hermes. i want to know if he has more children that aren’t year round campers because well he was there during winter so maybe most of his kids just weren’t there? maybe he didn’t lose all his children to the wars. also why is healing exclusively apollo’s children’s responsibility, hermes is often considered the god of medicine as well (luke even mentions it) why don’t they lend a hand
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