Odysseus

I check the tone of my voice to see
If I’ve become a man, like Odysseus,
If my gait stood strong like a Trojan horse,
Deceptive, but a well planned opulence,
Lured by the sirens of my own perfection.

Before puberty, the squeak of my voice
Haunted me tirelessly and unafraid,
Longing to escape the burden of boyhood,
Masked by the tyranny of expectations,
Cursed by a conscious vanity:
When would I become a man?

My frailness became it’s own enemy,
Locked in a chasm of regret and allure,
Running towards validation,
Like a good infantryman towards gunfire,
The blaze of contempt for my own manhood,
Reduced me to a giant without the strength, might, or height,
As the sirens of conformity,
Drifted me to the shores of complacency.

As winter has gone on for far too long,
And the spring winds foreign from rusted chimes,
I check the tone of my voice to see
If I’ve become a man, like Odysseus.

unsplash-logoCristina Gottardi

You and Me

A world taken by iron and eagles,
With boys as young as 12,
Could I have stomached the grit of sand and blood at Normandy?
Or enraged frost of Stalingrad?
Lullabied by the rumblings of the Panzer,
And bouncing like a kid on the legs of his grandfather,
It must’ve been hell,
But who am I to know?
We shared the same oath,
And scoured the same earth,
Finding manhood,
In no man’s land,
But I dug no foxholes,
No rancorous winters at Bastogne,
When nights grew distilled,
We both drunk from an initiation
Only a few ever tasted,
As the sun snuggles into a blanket of horizon,
Silence heals our reprisals,
And it’s only you and me.

Soar

Soar

In Winter,
The cold engulfed me like an enraged bear,
My head tilted to the sky,
And saw your eyes,
They were all your eyes,
Burning full and alive,
Taunting and seducing,
Lofty and unforgiving,
And I cried like a baby needing its mother,
Because those lights beyond the clouds were far;
The same distance as your love for me,
Like a mother bird I let you go,
Hoping you would soar,
Higher than my heart could ever take you,
I asked God if he could hear me,
And I felt a slight touch upon my shoulder,
It was the wind,
Blowing a lullaby,
Low and deep.