Sometimes poems have a beautiful way of exposing us to our deepest feelings. That's their beauty - its not the pretty words or even the rhyme...its the raw power to cut through the BS of life and get to our deepest selves. This one is, on the one hand, a bit personal (I've nothing to hide, we are all on our own journey and if my story helps another, then it has value) but in a broader sense, it is about the process of change and coming out the other end. I just like the name and the legend...I'm too fat to fly, like a bumblebee (they fly somehow, just nobody knows how)😉. Enjoy.
Icarus landed,
he had to…he fell
flew too close to the sunlight
not realising he’d melt
The fall took it’s toll
and his feathers fell out
his wings dull and lifeless
he thought he’d lost his power
Icarus sat for a good long long time
he pondered, he questioned
he even cursed the Divine
How could he have fallen?
Life was going quite well…
he was quite successful
then it all went to hell.
Icarus sat there, as he pondered his fate
life seemed pretty hopeless
he felt he had lost his way
He questioned his intelligence
his wisdom…his life
he sat until darkness came, then the pale morning light
Answers seemed minimal
sketchy and fake
he felt this was one time
he might actually fail?
He had always been strong,
held the torch up for others
yet this time he floundered
feeling bitter and cluttered
a great tiredness fell on him
he slept for some time
mired in uncertainty, unable to unwind
each direction he looked
seemed bleak and untenable
he felt that somehow
his inner guidance was questionable
So, in stillness he sat, releasing the pain
in the quietness he fostered, slowed his fast racing brain
sometimes you surrender, not to problems, but control
to having to know what to do, trust your soul
answers are in you, for all that you seek
he knew this implicitly, way down deep
Sometimes we can falter, that’s okay, we’re meant to
sometimes we lose hope, and we question our truth
but at those times look inward, trust the part that knows best
be still and just listen, for the still, whispered “breath”
slowly and surely, we reforge ourselves
we’ll stumble - that’s okay - we’re learning to tell
what works and what doesn’t
great strides come from steps steps
from the broken, we’re born stronger
until we’re back to our old selves
wiser, filled with thunder.
G
