Gutted like a Promethean fish,
Mouth gaping in and out as I’m sliced down the middle with a cold, steel knife.
You take away my liver—that thing that let me deal with all the poisons of the world.
The poisons come flooding back and I have no defenses.
The next day the liver grows back,
And I feel that I can breathe again, that I can live again.
But then the eagle swoops down and pecks away,
Torments me with memories of you—
You who fought the eagle with your broad, shining sword,
Stabbing it expertly and keeping it at bay.
I used to fight the eagle by myself,
Used to take a slingshot and with one swift move
Hit it between the eyes.
But you gutted me, and while the wound heals, I cannot stand.
It feels the wound will never heal
And I am too exhausted to pick myself off the ground—
The quest, it seems, is pointless, and healing impossible
When the eagle picks through the very wound you made.
I’ll fight back, I know, for I have other scars
From other
At times, they didn’t rob me, just hurt me inexplicably
And like you, ran away.
Perhaps they didn’t want me following them
And thought my eagle much too large.
For they had their own beasts to deal with—
Growling wolves, or hungry bears.
And couldn’t fathom the thought of beasts as big as mine.
It didn’t matter that I fought my beast myself,
That I threw myself in front of other travelers to protect them
From the eagle’s blows.
Sometimes I failed to protect them despite my efforts.
Some bore raging wounds before leaving me behind.
But others at a single talon’s scratch
Would flee and leave me pecked at in the dirt.
It might seem selfish, unforgivable
To leave another human spread and eagled on the ground.
But the Gods give us our lots, they say,
Determine our capacity for fighting and for pain.
And no one ever claimed the Gods were fair.
This is my lot in life and no one else can claim it.
No matter how hard they try.
No matter how much they love.
The eagle is my beast, and if others must cut me
To escape it, to give it easy prey and leave it far behind,
Then I will bear that load and hope
A few days’ pain helps them to escape
And fight the beasts they can,
Unburdened by what I myself can hardly bear.