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  • Icarus in Catechism Class

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    Esther A. Edaniol
    3K vizualizări1 pagină
    Icarus attends catechism class where he is expected to count halos on saints' heads and ignore the beautiful stained glass windows, but finds it boring. He waits impatiently for noon to come so the class will end, as he dreams of escaping this place like his father Daedalus dreamed of escaping the labyrinth. Icarus wants to put on his wings and fly away from the class and its homilies.

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    Icarus attends catechism class where he is expected to count halos on saints' heads and ignore the beautiful stained glass windows, but finds it boring. He waits impatiently for noon to come so the class will end, as he dreams of escaping this place like his father Daedalus dreamed of escaping the labyrinth. Icarus wants to put on his wings and fly away from the class and its homilies.

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    © All Rights Reserved
    Descărcați ca DOCX, PDF, TXT sau citiți online pe Scribd
    Indicator pentru conținut neadecvat
    3K vizualizări1 pagină

    Icarus in Catechism Class

    Încărcat de

    Esther A. Edaniol
    Icarus attends catechism class where he is expected to count halos on saints' heads and ignore the beautiful stained glass windows, but finds it boring. He waits impatiently for noon to come so the class will end, as he dreams of escaping this place like his father Daedalus dreamed of escaping the labyrinth. Icarus wants to put on his wings and fly away from the class and its homilies.

    Drepturi de autor:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Descărcați ca DOCX, PDF, TXT sau citiți online pe Scribd
    Indicator pentru conținut neadecvat
    din 1

    Icarus in Catechism Class

    Dominador I. Ilio
    Or make us angels all, with dirty feet
    Without wings, chanting the beatitudes
    Without exultation nor thought, counting
    The silver halos on the heads of saint,
    And ignoring the pastels on the stunning
    Stained glass windows
    The morning Deadalus
    My father scraping the wax of last night’s taper
    Spoke of escape from this dark labyrinth,
    This walled-in wilderness where blackbirds twitter
    Homilies from the pulpit
    O I wait
    The noon. Soon the minutes will glibly run
    Into the decades full of women and sinners ---
    O hour of my death, O let the noon bell ring,
    I want to go home I want to put on my wings.

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