Tumbling to earth now the wax of these wings is melted,
the faint embrace of clouds lets me pass through like a
slippery newborn, and as such I blink and blink as though
betwixt the heights I achieved and the hard fact of gravity
I might yet devise a way to do something other than fall.
For all the hubris of taking the sky, I did, by God, fly,
and the heat just before the feathers loosed was lovely,
a deep shuddering pleasure that I would seek again if
only I could bounce without breaking.
©Dana Hughes 8.30.17
Yes. If only we could bounce without breaking. I’m having a hard time deciding which one I love more: “passing through clouds like a slippery newborn” or “for all the hubris of taking the sky, I did, by God, fly.” There is something deeply tender and gently sympathetic about them both that seems to stand in tension with the “tsk-tsk” quality of the icarus myth. Call him Icarus Invictus. Very nice.