This was written during my trip to Athens, Greece with the “Charioteer of Delphi” in mind.
How does he stand still
with his horses long run
ripped of his reins
as they have seethed forward
frothing at the mouth.
What hand did they not heed
what stone have they thundered past
leaving dust…that primordial dust
that gathers between his coppery green
eyes that stare off into nothing
while his feet stay molded
exquisitely waiting
for the nerves within them
to pounce
and let him flee
what stone
has set him
frozen.
intotheindigo 