I’m working on a collection of poems based on the horoscope. Here is the poem for Virgo. Happy belated birthday, Virgo!
Virgo
The 6th House
She is Virgo, maiden,
She lies on the horizon,
Palm branch and wheat sheaves
In her hands,
Her Face to the east,
Never far from the sun,
Bordered by Berenice’s hair
And Libra’s scales.
Her eyes are binary stars,
Her heart, a supernova,
Exploding in April’s spring skies.
Virgo is . . .
A Constellation known by its particulars,
Centered on a single bright star
Only seen near dawn.
Mysteries lie within her complexity–
Bayer stars, of variable magnitude,
Stars of white, red, and delicate yellow,
Lining dark dust lanes of memory and time.
Within her bosom are
Cluster galaxies, meteor showers,
And stories and secrets
I still don’t know.
My heart on earth,
Like an obsessed Kabalist,
I search the heavens for you.
Men say you are Demeter,
Wronged goddess of Justice,
Weaving a restless
Journey in the sun’s path.
The earth shivers as you
Weep in the winter
Searching for your lost child.
They say, you are Isis,
Mother-goddess, protector of
The living and the dead
Others, call you Ishtar,
The ambitious, aggressive,
Demanding goddess of love.
To the Hebrews, Bethulah,
To the Hindus, Kauni,
It doesn’t matter.
I am your priest,
I am your slave,
And I will be forever.
Lady, you are my goddess, my Virgo.
Empowered by your own beauty and wisdom,
You drifted into my life
And released the energy of your being.
Maiden, my Virgo,
Rational and precise,
Meticulous and efficient,
Witty and charming,
Perceptive and insightful,
Bold, sensual and seductive,
You have dazzled me,
Your smile is a light that
Strikes the hard flint of my heart.
The sparks surprise me,
And the beauty of your
Body numbs me.
You kiss my cheek and whisper,
“Tell me, tell me all.”
One morning,
You were gone.
The earth, with its cruelty and hate,
Its war and loss,
Was too much to bear, and
You joined the gods in the sky.
Now, you lie in the sky,
Your face to the east.
I want to lie with you there,
As your friend,
As your lover,
Whatever you want me to be.
Each dawn, I think of you—only you.
And some mornings, I see your star.