Sun-drunk, Cherry-stained ((Title subject to change))

And eating cherries in the morning, I think about Icarus

Young, Golden, Brilliant Boy

So overcome by the freedom

So overcome by the ecstasy of it all

That he forgot to heed his father’s warnings

That he felt the sea-spray

That he felt the sun’s sharp rays on his back

And he smiled

And he flew

And he called back to his father

Zooming ahead

This way and that

``We’re going home! ``

Home

Home 

Home

And the cherry juice running down my hand 

reminds me of the wax

Melting, bubbling, burning

Turning his pale skin red

Dripping and falling

Into the blue sea below

Wax, from the candles

That had been the only source of light

In the dark windowless tower

Wax, that held together each feather 

Each feather that gifted him the ability to fly

To soar

To reach out and touch Apollo’s sun

And, spitting out the pit of the cherry, I think about

The pit in Icarus's stomach

As he realizes it was too late

As the far away blue grows closer and closer

As he can see the ripples

As he can see the end of his freedom

So limited, so short

But my sweet Icarus

Never felt fear

Never felt free

In the labyrinth, He was trapped by his father’s ambition

In the tower, Trapped by King Minos

Trapped by all of Crete

I have heard people say that Icarus laughed

As he was plummeting through the sky, he laughed

And who am I to say he didn’t

Who am I to say that sun-drunk Icarus

Reckless and at last uncontained

Didn’t spend his last moments

The sea’s arms reaching up for him

Howling

Screaming joy and triumph

``I flew! I flew!``

And he knew that

Despite the fact that he flew

He was falling

And as I reach for the last cherry in the bowl

Icarus reaches up his arms in a last moment

Before the sea receives him

Before he is pulled under the waves

His father, watching

Screaming

Crying

But in that moment, Icarus was not his father’s son

In the moment of the flight, he was Apollo’s 

In the sea, Poseidon's

Soon, he would be Hades’s

So, like the cherry stem I roll and twist between my fingers

Icarus rolled and twisted in the waves

The last dying breath taken from his lungs

His body now sinking

Sea-claimed, Sky-hungry boy

Now void of his free falling flight

Maybe, he could have lived

Grew old in the tower

Or maybe he could have fought

That all-consuming urge

That freedom

Maybe he wouldn’t have reached out and touched Apollo

But he would

Oh, but he would

All over again, given the choice

He would have chosen that last dying flight

The fall

And so Icarus

God-touched

Light-chasing

Sun-drunk Icarus

Flew

Flew

Flew

And fell

And I smile

thinking of my Freedom-mad boy

And I forget about the cherries

And their juice staining my hands