Icarus

Martyrs with gaunt figures misleading masses in pleasant baritones,
Frugal attempts at showcasing factual-based arguments, fighting fronts alone,
Commonplace opinions insist he was not to be bothered with what they suspected,
To be sad efforts to draw attention, so the townsfolk turned their heads, they rejected,

The sunlight hits your face,
It lights up your eyes,
And you spread your wings,
And you take to the skies,

Cages are obvious where they are set, but they come sheathed in suspicion to the practical minds,
But he insists practical never resigns itself from the safety net, therefore, never crosses lines,
Routine will not gum up machinery, it will not rust up the clockwork daily life being led in this town,
He shifts uneasy, gets to working, dreams of the day the brick walls ahead and around come crashing down,

The sunlight hits your face,
It lights up your eyes,
And you spread your wings,
And you take to the skies,

The skies won’t come easy for you,
They put up a fight,
And they crumple your wings,
And I watch you die,


Riddles etched on the human faces as they crowd around where he lays in a heap of ambition,
But the ravens know, and the mayor frowns, his eyebrows twitch, as we find our voices, he loses his patience,
Revelations come in droves and droves, not all are trophies for the fireplace light, but they take us higher,
And may he rest in peace and be blessed with fruits born from his great flight, the spark that birthed a fire,

The sunlight hit your face,
It lit up your eyes,
And you spread your wings,
And you took to the skies,

The skies wouldn’t go easy on you,
They put up a fight,
And they crumpled your wings,
And we watched you die,

But the great flight lives on,
It lights up our lives,
And doubts shrivel with every flicker,
We no longer wonder why,

Thank you.

© Hazim Haemoglobin

Poems

 





Icarus


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