Icarus

Can you imagine, a Girl standing on the surface

of an ocean of tragedy?

Less like a Messiah, and more like weight

on the tip of an iceberg;

fragile, bobbing back and forth.

The Girl wishes she could fly away,

to let the air cut her sorrows and dry her tears.

But just beneath the surface is a small Child,

whose feet are on the underside of the lapping waves.

The Child’s head is thrown back as they look into

the icy depths beneath them.

The Child almost wished they could just go down.

But despite the feeling of gravity dragging them down,

there’s a rope wrapped around their ankles,

attaching them to the ankles of the Girl on top of the water.

They’re tied together,

holding each other down and up,

drowning and breathing,

longing to fly but afraid to let go.

For without the rope,

the Child would be dragged into less than nothing,

a frigid Hell, Dante’s Inferno.

And the Girl would float away,

far into the sky until the plastic small on her face

would melt away,

leaving an expressionless creature, 

floating toward the sun to burn.

Would you be able to believe that these two beings

are two halves of the same whole?

Stranger things have happened,

than this.