You enrapture the sky, Apollon,
You twirl its clouds like locks between your fingers.
Sunshine spills from your lips like golden wine, overflowing,
And beads of morning dew line your neck; fragmented kisses.
You are a lithe, blemish-less god, and one I dare not find flaw in.
Even the marks upon your body, scars and bruises, and freckles galore,
Make you all the more enchanting,.
And yet, this is not what I find most lovely about you.
You, lordly Apollon, are a mind-healer for the hopeless.
I have seen the way you hold their hands,
Kiss the tears from their faces.
I have felt your gentle clasp on my arm as I longed to defile the body that you have told me is perfect.
I have known you, my god, I have known you like only your patient can.
And I have felt the healing light of your breath consume me from the inside out as you lit me like a match,
Dispersing my tired shadows like dust in the air.
I praise you, fine Theos,
Not because of any story I have heard or any poem I have read.
No, it is because you were my guiding candle in the darkest days I have lived to speak of,
Sweet god, you carried me when I could not stand myself, let alone stand up on my own.
Blessed is the space between your fingers, because you use it as a work space to fashion recovery.
Blessed is the way you move so quickly, for you are always there to catch those that fall out of the healthy trees that disguise even the most evident of heartbreak.
Blessed are you, Apollon,
And your honeyed bandages that fit snugly over our hearts.
“Hymn to Apollon, Lord of Mental Health”
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