'Lethe' - A Poem By Gwion Iqbal Malik

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A spoken word poem by Gwion Iqbal Malik - Poet In Residence at the Dylan Thomas Birthplace, Swansea, U.K.

LETHE

One Guru handed out visions. Proselytised madness. Taught me to sit in the flame. Another preached pain at the House of El - said three stars arrive in the black. Burning bolides. Fireballs of sundog and hailstone.

For men shall appear at the first House and the last. Drink from the vestal waters of the Naïf and the soiled shores of the Styx. Watch them, standing like Wiccan Gods. A voodoo of shadow robed in pall.

Burying themselves at the knell. Eulogising kings and queens. Valedictory parlours. A black cortège imbibing lethe. No souls are weighed here. Just ferried across the river, lost in a blaze of arrows fired for the gods.

CREDITS:

Music: 'Eternal Garden' by Dan Henig.