Poem by Harris Psaras


The sun is more blind that Homer

its black light unfolds inside us

in the eyes of death we’re all civilians

You lay down early. You subdue the voice of love.

You say: I’m human

in your sleep you destroy and rebuild Troy.

The dead Hector throbs in your veins

and you run, a vassal of your blood.

Your daily innocent life tries to relax

by turning the pages: yet an Atreides.

Homer was blind too. The sun is also blind.

Death drafts both the good and the evil.

I regret means I narrate in detail

how Hecuba and Priam perished.