In the cave I can read Plato when I’m not viewing films
whose theory is they are our images parading the wall,
if light upon shadow is who we are or will become.
I can hope against hope the planet will find a door
that opens to let life crawl through. Welcome the sun
like a long-lost relative whose warmth is native to touch.
In the cave the film adaptation of Plato’s Republic
means little to the elders. They remember the soldiers
and the slaves,. They lived through the perfection
and found the hole at the other end of the long corridor
by following the streaming light projecting the new life.
I am one of the old people now. I have too much to say.
But I listen. The nighthawks pursue the bats for a meal
and sleep with the sounds of human breath echoing here
where dreams have become more prophecy than memory.
When my love tells me I have no wrinkles in my skin,
I count myself among those who have yet to begin to live.
Let the fire in her eyes glow brightly and our life begin.
(14 May 2013)
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander