by Z. I. Sadeq
1
Behold me!– Cowards and last men!
It is me, the not-man.
My soul is marked
by malignance and misandry.
Motivations within my heart
lay athwart from humankind.
Mutinous monster am I!
2
As dense as the smog that fills the air,
misanthropy festers within my mind;
a mind bloated like the carcass of roadkill
twisted along the highway.
3
What a narrow definition it is
that man defines himself by;
to look a certain way,
to act a certain way,
to talk a certain way,
to walk a certain way.
How easy it was – how lucky I am,
then, to be not-man!
4
Inevitably, my life became tragedy,
too tragic to any longer bare.
Depression covered me like a black mold
blighting the face of untasted harvests.
Filled to the brim with resentment,
despising those responsible
for my condition,
for my creation…
I offered my body to death
and communed with the void.
5
Thus entered Mishibijiw.
He appeared like moonlight,
a mountainous fog
rolling up from the south
slowly in silence;
bright green eyes,
darkest presence,
coat colored the tone
of the great primordial Nothingness
from whence all came.
6
I averted my eyes in shame.
My efforts were met
with a low, creeping growl.
I was surely dead!
This demon had come for my soul.
7
The great panther then whispered
in my ear. He did not leave me
until every strand of hair
on my body stood erect
like sailors on a mess deck.
8
When he left me,
so left my consciousness.
His tail must have whipped my head
as he slunked back into the abyss
from which he materialized.
9
I awakened the next day
recognizing my experience.
This demon, Mishibijiw,
left inside my heart
a small speck of the great primordial Nothingness
that I have carried on until now.
10
O Valravn,
black albatross!
Raptor of rapture,
harbinger of death,
eagle of the underworld! –
Had you finally come for my heart?
A gloomy vestige
cast upon me
like a gull gliding
above the shores of abysmal depths.
11
O Vakhos! Ancient Hellas,
surrounded in the veil of the unknown;
What wonders lie beneath
that blanket of darkness?
What is left to recover
of wildness, of my shadow
that once did know me long ago?
Muses and faeries,
gods and forests!
Might your sweet nectar
like a serpents venom
once again course through my veins?