Me And My Shadow

The shadow, an ever faithful companion, it takes up residence

on the boulevard of Eden’s shame, without a homeland of its own

it seeks out my company yet, it stretches away from me with the nostalgia of

a long lost cousin, it tries to reach the light, and yet it clings to the past that

falls to ground besides me, the familial bond, the Sysifuin hill between

angels and shepherds

I try to reach it but it leans further away, the space between us a generational

gap, that disguises the lineal cord, in the shade of two souls

One the substance of somatic disorder the other of the ethereal parasite that

falls yet does not rise

if I spit up I wet my brow and if I spit down my chin

yet my shadow never felt the drizzle,

My shadow, follows the leader, yet who leads who is a subjective truth

On the hill my shadow holds a dimmed lantern, it sways to and fro,

hiding its paternity in the undisclosed trust of matriarchal societies,

night defrocks my shadow, as it seeks to hide in the lining of my pocket,

hidden among the initials stitched by Thrones upon the soil of my

kerchief.

The angels shadow the shepherd, and the diabolic moon my homeland,

my long lost cousin never makes the port of call. The harbour humility, it

swims back to shore, its ego stretches towards the highland, always reaching

denying it ever knew its roots, it spits down on its beard and soils its

mustache and wipes the residue on the sleeve between our logistical lineage

and transfusional refraction of light. I know its father but its mother never

disclosed the specifics of its gender.

Relatives, we cant pick them or choose them.

We are joined at the hip, like it or not, from when Eve ribbed Adam, for

insulting her grandmothers creation of the loincloth.

The shadow felt the jab, astonished, it

opened its eyes and realized it was always girded.

It would never have gotten too far. In the dark we were created equals.

Copyright ©. R Tsambounieri Talarantas. July 2020. All Rights Reserved.