Written many years ago while reading Carl Gustav Jung’s autobiography Memories, Dreams, Reflections.
In the green meadow behind the old vicarage,
A hole thrust through the earth,
A sparkling spiral staircase descending into the pit;
A subterranean labyrinth spreading into infinity
Beneath the sleepy village above.
Beyond the green curtains stands the throne
Of the one eyed god.
“That”, says mother,
“is the man eater.”
– 25 April 1999
Disfigured by a clubfootedness of the heart
No visible limp or gait
No sign to alert parent or peer
To the barely bearable weight
Achieving as much or more
With seemingly little effort
A heart strains under expectations weight
Praying from this earth to be severed.
Love weighs as much as hatred
Sometimes even moreso
Surrounded by family and friends
Isolated and lonesome as Caruso
They all want a hero
Not an uncommon want, it seems
But in whom does a hero confide
The true darkness of his dreams?
(May 5th, 2007 – March 11th, 2015)
This poem is, of course, the source of the title of this blog.