The Onyx String

we're all in chains,

my jailers and me. 

we're shackled at the wrists,

shackled at the ankles,

shackled at the lives,

by a steely onyx string. 

yesterday, i sighed at the altar. 

in the temple, the priest responded,

"only the gods can change your fate."

i placed my footprints

upon the alpine head of Olympus

and said to the wind,

"bear these whisperings on your back;

howl them at the gods

that they may change my fate."

yesterday, Zeus thundered not

& stillness eclipsed Apollo's smile.

they showed me hands,

shackled at the wrists.

they showed me feet,

shackled at the ankles. 

they showed me hearts,

shackled at the lives,

by a steely onyx string.

today, on my return

from the home of the gods,

my weary soles trudge slowly

down the dreary rocky plains;

in the distance i hear

a steady clanging from a forge.

behold three girls, little sisters

all laughing as they smith.

i see their hands,

shackled at the wrists.

i see their feet,

shackled at the ankles.

i see their hearts,

shackled at the lives,

by their steely onyx string.

©Marcel