Out of the Cave
The boulder groans along the floor as I push it out the way
Light streams into the cavern and fresh air tickles my rough face
my sheep move like a rolling tide, swarming out of their pens and into the world
Outside, I know, the grass grows green and tall, pines reaching into a sky
as blue as the lakes, as clear as tears and as cold as death.
And yet, I cannot see it, can no longer make sense of the world through my eye,
relegated to touch and hearing, inferior senses in my mind
I am scorned, a wretched flawed creature in the minds of my neighbors.
I am alone in the world, without cause or purpose, except the care of my sheep.
And now I truly live in a cave, for even at highest noon, all I can see is darkness.
Ever since that monstrous trickster Odysseus, masquerading as a nobody,
Struck me blind, burning my flesh, lashing my mind with fire and destruction.
Unable to fight me like a true hero, he tricked me with twisted wiles
to destruction, as hot as the deepest depths of Tartarus.
But as much as I blame the man, I know where the true fault lies:
with the deathless gods above, the cold, capricious ones,
The ones who favored Odysseus so much, lending him courage, wits and strength
It is not wise to curse the gods, but I do so anyway, angry at the way they exalt their
puny humans, their little heroes, so far insignificant to us mighty Cyclopses.
Only one god, our father, Poseidon, loves our race. To the others, we are crude
beings, monsters, flawed, reflections from a broken mirror.
And even if the gods pretend they love us, sending us rains to grow our food and
warm winds, we know the truth. For if they truly loved us, I would be able to see,
Free to walk the world, and see the light and darkness both, not just one.
No longer stuck in the cave.