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Tag: slavery

Outside the Cage: Sicilian quintet

Physical confinement has its source
in some external entity that binds.
It is imposed by outside will, of course.
But slavery is not just of that kind;
your mind’s created prisons reinforce

the limitations you are taught to see,
the walls that form the edges of the box
in which you play out your brief history.
It has no doors or windows, and no locks,
but keeps what is outside a mystery.

It takes so little to remove the lid,
but once you’ve seen outside, your goose cooked.
You cannot take it back, and if you did,
there’s no way to describe what in one look
destroys all that you learned when still a kid.

Your chains you forge in life are your own brand.
The steel in them is alloyed from your acts.
There is no crushing heel or helping hand,
no unseen other twisting simple facts.
You are the ship, the ocean, and the land.

Inside the cage you build to hold you in,
there is just one sure way to be set free:
forget all that you know. Once you begin
to let that go, your eyes, now dull, will see,
and recognize exactly where you’ve been.

18 Jun 2025

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The Heart of Beauty

When Beauty stands alone at last
upon the wretched reefs of time
and watches as her suitors sink
beyond the pale horizon line
where tied to masts of providence
they’ve closed their senses to her charms
and set their sextants to new courses
far from her beseeching arms,

no matter then how sweet her song,
when each note, lost to swells of surf,
is but a whisper on the wind,
a worthless seed in barren earth,
and even in her own soft ears
will sound like scratches on the rocks,
a cackle from a passing gull
who sees in this no paradox.

Then bitter, she will turn her head
and swim back slowly to the shore,
her salt tears mixed with brine and sand,
and come down to the beach no more.
For Beauty needs an audience,
despite her bold and showy ways;
even the proudest actor fails
in time, without applause or praise.

And Beauty, how we keep apart,
in careful boxes locked and sealed,
her essence from her mind, and heart,
and with that care, is hate revealed.
For we would have her, just for that
which titillates us and our lust
and not be bothered with her soul,
though have a soul, she does, and must.

We drive her off to lonely shores
or high in towers, where she pines
to share a dark and loveless cell
among the dead, like Prosperpine.
For ’tis the trophy we would claim,
the right to Beauty for our sake;
and care not if the heart we cage,
without our love, can only break.

06 FEB 2005

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