The Death of a Myth
After Landscape with the Fall of Icarus by Bruegel I am the ocean, every drop of salted water that is displaced by life and yet is its source. I swallow suffering and Icarus whole, like the whale did Jonah. A single charred feather gets lodged in my back molars, and I spit it back up with the tide. What I yearn for is unreachable. A long-held dream of freedom I clutch to my body like a blanket as I sleep. You don’t see me as alive, and now neither do I. I cannot save Icarus as he sinks to the rocks without a breath. Why must I be where myths go to die?
Emma CrowE is a senior at Central Washington University pursuing a degree in Professional and Creative Writing. Her focus is mainly on social-justice poetry and empowering others through her words. Her work can be found in Manastash Student Literary Journal, Beyond Words Literary Magazine, Olit Magazine, and is forthcoming in Central Dissent by New Plains Review. When she’s not working on a new poem or story, Emma enjoys crafting and relaxing in the fresh PNW air.
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