Icarus

Icarus Phoenix – by Kelly Hanwright

For a dwelling so small, it was gargantuan.

That house came crashing down, crushing
my chest. Forced to gnaw and swallow
paint, I tasted chalk and lead.

My stomach burned but
I couldn’t throw up; insides already coated,
calendar pages filling until food wouldn’t fit.
Despite the odds, when the time came,
I flew. Like Icarus. Somehow, I rose,
but my wings did not melt.

I reached up blackened hands and grasped a Sun.

Image: Superposition of Fall of Icarus (René Milot) with a burnt house (mrd-stock)

Latest posts by Kelly Hanwright (see all)

2 thoughts on “Icarus Phoenix – by Kelly Hanwright”

  1. You WILL rise!
    You ARE rising!
    Above it all, through it all, leaving the World, the Past, the Pain, the chalky tastes, and the Sunshine will heal, not burn.
    Keep rising!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*