On First Looking into Ovid’s Metamorphoses
For Adam Meister and Suyash Singh
His hand was heart. His heart was hand. The hand
Was heart and more. This hand was soul and mind.
He learned that there are more than Sabbaths, bland
And filled with trifling things like God. The blind
Were leading him to blindness. Ancient text,
Though penned in gold and spirit, spelled by tongues
Long dry and dead, had promised only hexed
Results, just exits from the truth. The rungs
Of Jacob’s ladder had been pledged, but then
He read the poetry of ancient Rome,
The myths of Ancient Greece, where men were men
And gods were worse than men. He felt at home.
This verse converted him and gave him heart
To hug his wrongs, to live… and stand apart.
~ Phillip Whidden