The Cave

Described by Plato, now it’s much the same,
this underworld we’re comfortable in.
Our fetters fit us like a second skin.
Enchanted by the caperings onscreen
and never by the hidden source of light,
the fire behind us or the naked sun,
we know each shadow perfectly by name.
Our children don’t remember other ways.
We think we do; it’s only been a year.
We think so, but the past’s abstract and far,
ungraspable and tiny as a star
glimpsed from a distance of unnumbered days.

Up on the surface, dazzled by the glare,
squinting, stumbling, only gradually
able to make out moonlight, water, tree,
and gulping in the strong and strange fresh air,
how could some poor prisoners not rebel
if forced to leave their subterranean womb?
Would most not scuttle back to their dark room,
resist the power dragging them uphill?
Will we resurface – some of us, few, all?
The second spring approaches. Time will tell.

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Rachel Hadas

Rachel Hadas's new works include Piece by Piece (Paul Dry Books), Love and Dread, and her most recent book of poems, Pandemic Almanac. She is one of some forty translators of Nonnus's massive epic Tales of Dionysus (University of Michigan Press, 2022). Her new book of poems, Ghost Guest, will be published later this year.

Also by Rachel Hadas (see all)

• Voyage - March 2, 2023
• Though Much Is Taken, Much Abides:Fifteen Years of Literature & Medicine - May 22, 2022
• The Labyrinth, the Septic Tank - October 30, 2021

Author: Rachel Hadas

Rachel Hadas's new works include Piece by Piece (Paul Dry Books), Love and Dread, and her most recent book of poems, Pandemic Almanac. She is one of some forty translators of Nonnus's massive epic Tales of Dionysus (University of Michigan Press, 2022). Her new book of poems, Ghost Guest, will be published later this year. View all posts by Rachel Hadas