After years of silence
the man who made me said,
“If my sons could stand up to me,
there is nothing in the world they couldn’t face.”
How the barbed flowers of hate again did bloom,
as I plucked their petals
and ate that truth.
I would trade all of this strength for you.
And when I did finally face you,
the great dragon of my life,
I realized after all this time
you were only a snake.
A deceitful beast without wings,
armed only with poison in it’s teeth.
I’d made of you a Titan in my dreams,
that devoured his children
drunk and gluttonous off curses and a prophecy.
I was the son of Saturn.
The Patron Saint of Patricide
with thunder in my heart
and lightning in my eyes.
When I brought the storm you conjured
you cowered and slithered beneath the ground,
and I parted the sky out of pity
lest you drown.
I know well the myth of our legacy,
what your father did to you–you did to me.
So I offer unto you a new prophecy;
the curse of Saturn’s Father
is broken by me.
– I G