(Note: These poems are an homage to Neil Gaiman's fantastic Sandman: Season of Mists. The first is inspired by Lucifer and the second by Loki. Confessions of the First Son is written in blank verse and Loki Bound is a sonnet. These are among the few poetry pieces I've written with specific meter.)
Confessions of the First Son
The evening dissipates before my eyes.
I’m sitting isolated on this beach
examining the dying summer sky.
I want to fly again, I want to hold
the clouds, the rain, the birds and make them mine.
But I cannot. I’ve fallen and may not
see light again. The irony! These souls
call me the light! These mortal fools. They say:
“The devil made me do it.” “Selling souls
to Satan.” What is that? How can I own
a soul? Their souls belong to them, not me.
The poet Milton said with great disdain:
“It’s better ruling Hell than serving God
in Heaven” But that Milton was so blind,
so Puritan. There is no Hell. There is
no Heaven. None at all. A Hell? I laugh!
You make your own. As I did when I Fell.
I tire of the loneliness, so dark.
Behold disgrace! The Fallen firstborn son—
the fool who thought about rebelling once.
But how can I rebel, the choice was not
a choice I could make mine. No, I am part
of fate. The greatest game of all— The Fall,
the War. We were all pawns without a voice.
But we now know that I am not the one.
I had no say, did I? So I will have
to accept my life, but not my fork, my horns.
You might dare say: “The death of evil’s roots!”
So I will sit and watch the dying day.
And yes, the sunsets are spectacular,
you pompous hack. I ask: You happy now?
It drips so slow. It burns my face. The pain
is so unbearable. The snake even grins
at me. My son’s entrails replace the chain
that holds my arms, my legs, until my kin
begin the final fight. The fight where I
will die. It is inscribed in stone, it does
not matter what I try to do, I’ll die.
They said this is my punishment. It was
so long ago. Who wants eternal pain?
I want to scream and cry out at my wife:
unleash me now! But how can I have gain!
My blight will end, and then so will my life!
How can I live with my own death foretold?
How can I die without a life at all?