Treasure Island

Edin Alaou


Little Man


little man,
who are you
to hide from the dawn
to question
the order of things
shunning the light

you
who spend your days
tethered
by the shadow of illumination
and your nights
hunting angels
in dreams

how do you dare
to refuse to walk
as life intended for you
you do not use your body

you do not even understand
the parts of yourself
you are responsible
for creating

at the edge of a cliff
of windswept, tan rock
whose colour is meaningless in darkness
the valley beseeches you
calm and jagged
like a frozen fire

you work it with a pickaxe
hiding behind the line of safety
whittling it down
until
it leads nowhere
and you are trapped

and those who come later
will work it down with you
or they will jump
through you
through your shadow
and the light
that you hid from
will show them how to walk
but you do not walk

you work with a pickaxe
you stand
and erode
becoming rock
becoming rooted
brown and windswept
but your colour matters not in the darkness

little man
the dawn will come
but by then
you may not have eyes to see it
even if you can feel it
on your skin

Submitted: Saturday, March 23, 2013

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