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Artwork By Marissa Smith
Icarus By Delany Bresnahan
I feel like Icarus. Tempted by the Sun, Tempted by the heated flicker of a flame, Tempted by freedom. I feel like Icarus, As he fell from the sky, Wax dripping down his back, The Sun in his eyes. I feel like Icarus, When he was swallowed by the sea, The salty spray slipping into his mouth, Into his lungs. I feel like Icarus,
Wanting to carve his own path, Knowing that the Sun would melt his wings, But throwing caution to the wind as he flew higher, Higher to freedom. Icarus, And his hubris flew higher to the sun, Believing himself equal, Only to have his pride melted by the heat, The heat of the Sun too much for it to handle. The Sun melted Icarus’ wings as it did his ego. I am Icarus, Carving my own path, Flying too high, Too close to the sun. I am Icarus, Tempted by a freedom I am unable to have, Tempted by the Sun. I am Icarus, With wax burning down my back, As I fall to the sea. I am Icarus, But I will laugh as I fall, The Sun in my eyes, And the salty sea enveloping me. Closing my eyes to the Sun, I shiver, The heat leaving my skin, Frozen. Lost to the sea. My wings of wax melted, Heavy, Unmoving. They drag me down to further depths, Where I am comforted by the cold.
