Birth of Man

by Sharon M. White

Twisted soul is bound down tight
and hiding in a human shell.
Eyes that peer burn holes in flesh
where rays of purest light and color,
dark and knowing, lead to tethered soul.

Jagged are the glistening whites
that support the ragged gash
the first thing learned is bite and grind
followed by the scream of rage
the last thing mastered is the kiss.

Internal frame with care and skill
stretches stubborn flesh to sheathe the soul.
Contorting, writhing in his broken pain
he can stay or sit or stand as he would wish
but worst is knowing freedom’s lost.

Unconscious now he lay aground
in wont to roam between the realms
Memnosyne does take her rest to
fog eternal memories and
she alone can drown freedom’s fire.

Eyes open wide and Man now wakes;
trapped inside the body scarred and torn
he was born beside the primordial lake
where with laughter of blackest timbre
the waters of Chaos mock his pain.