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.