In Communion with Calliope is a fortnightly column by Ivana Marija Devčić.
I feel the weight of the world
as though it were a house upon me.
I am not Atlas,
I cannot bear this mantle
stooped and bravely bowing.
Instead, I sense the atrophy
biting through my muscles.
My heart shatters within;
that fragile thing,
made of nought but
words and stuck paper.
But still, I stand –
Even if it is I who must become
the cement lion that prowls the fence;
the angel buttress above the door.
My eyes are black now,
filled with the yearning,
endless sorrow of the night,
as it bids the world farewell
before the rising dawn.
Watch as my knees quiver
without my knowing
for they are air beneath me,
transforming into wings.
Seize the last sight of me,
before I sink into the ground
and form the axis of the universe.
Life at the price of a child,
willingly given.
Will you walk away?
Or will you turn backward?