It is not a cry in the dark,
a wail to those who love me,
a breakdown made of tears and apologies
and ‘why is this happening to me’s.
Instead, my grief is a silent killer.
It suffocates me in the night.
I feel it poison my lungs
every time I draw in breath.
I feel it wrap its cold dark hands
around my barely beating heart,
squeeze until it needs to gasp to restart
and yet it does not speak.
My grief is silent,
so others think it doesn’t exist.
They look at the unbreakable mask I wear
on my face without realising my insides scream.
They wonder if I ever loved you
the way you needed.
Sometimes they think I am
a heartless thing that never loved you at all.
They think I never deserved you
and refuse to understand the truth of the way I grieve.
They refuse to look at me, the same way Icarus’ father
refused to look at the sun ever again because
a part of him blamed Apollo for never understanding
that Icarus loved him, that he let him plummet and die in the water.
No one ever told him either, that when Icarus fell,
Apollo went insane with grief.
I know, because every night I see the sun God
drown himself in the horizon,
to learn the painful process
of destroying and resurrecting himself
in the myth we naively call Night and Day
that we take for granted as the sun setting and rising
All this so that one day he can defy Olympus’ rule
of never resurrecting a mortal for Icarus,
the only mortal who ever dared to loved him enough
to fly close to him but drowned instead, in the ocean’s deep.
[If he ever learns to resurrect mortals
the way he resurrects himself
Apollo’s favourite sight would always be Icarus rising
the way he does every morning, whole again from the sea.
And my favourite memory seared in my mind by
my aching, ever destroying, never ending grief
the kind of grief that Apollo and I know intimately
will be your sleep warm body softly breathing next to me.]
Nikita Gill, Why the Sun Rises and Sets: A Mythological Retelling/ Truths about Grief
When we left Pompeii all the people were gone and a touristical attraction turned into a melancholic and soft place in the light of the sunset. The last picture is my favourite: the fallen Icarus with the Mount Vesuvius in the background.
maybe Apollo blazed infernos with the bitter sting of humiliation. singed off feathers one by one, thrust him into the frigid embrace of an ocean that would sooner kill than love back: a lesson to mortals who dare defy the gods. | [ x ]
Sunblind is an anthology about the love of two boys on the verge of falling apart. Set in the modern world, the old legend of Icarus with a modern twist is told through the eyes of both lovers, sometimes alternating, and a collection of voicemails, texts, post-its and notes filled with unexpected twists and turns reminiscent of a leap of faith.
The book features over 70 pieces and is divided into three parts which piece together the life of Icarus and Apollo, and their story which struggles for love, dependency, fear and more.
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