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The Antaeus Dream This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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On nights the moon stands
solemn faced and the stars
half-hang, half-float like fireflies
suspended in glowing martyrdom
and the breeze rasps secrets of the
crucified to anyone who’ll listen,
I step out. Crunching grass beneath my
feet, worms between my toes, ears pressed
to ground, waiting -
like stethoscope to patient’s heart,
I attune myself to Earth’s pulse
(not the throbbing in my ear) but the
shuddering recoil as shell
shatters ground, the silent moan as
body plunges face forward
into dirt.
Somewhere, a mother returns her son to
soil. Bowing deeply, her tears baptize
the spot. They quiver for a moment, like
final echoes of a lullaby many years
unsung, then disappear beneath
black earth.
I still taste salt
in these blades of grass - my
tongue stings with remembering, my
ears acknowledge pain. I am Antaeus - bound
to the soil, the secret sacrifice of its
pulse, but for this I will not cry -
Only for the dream of a bullet-startled dove
who discovers nothing
but a trick
of pebbles and wind.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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sardonicsunshineThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Apr. 14, 2012 at 3:40 pm:
This is amazing! You are very talented! :)
 
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