Wednesday, 18 October 2017

Freedom #1 and #2


In the darkness he stands, his head thrown back
his cloven feet firmly apart, his nostrils lifted up
to catch the memory of the breeze.
His eyes closed, his fur on end,
his fists clenched, his thighs aquiver,

and in the centre of who he is
is awareness the cycle is passing and soon
the boats will arrive at the port
with the new seasons cargo of children
forced to try their luck
and pass through the maze not knowing
at its blackest heart is he

and though he wishes it were not so,
that he could find the strength to resist,
the truth is he craves the light so
that he will perform the act,
give them the blood,
honour the god and hope
one day he will gain release.

The beast then. the abandoned child,
the son, the lover who seeks an innocent’s blood;
he is them all, the bequeathed, the vanquished
the hero, the monstrous savage,

standing in the centre of the labyrinth
in the night that never departs,
with memories for companions,
death in all his deeds, he is what we fear
and he is wretchedly us.


He waits for the ray of sunshine
to wind its way down the shaft
carved in the solid rock, Daedalus
understood the plight of light,
though not that
it is both wave and particle,
down into the heart of the mountain,
to the cavern hollowed up
destined in carver’s mind
to be the minotaur’s prison.

The minotaur stands in the cavern’s centre,
has the sense to know the timing
of that sunlight’s descent,
waits with his eyes closed,
his head held straight –
when the time is right
the light hits the two horns,

twin crescent moons shine in the darkness.

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