2018 - Winter

“Finding Happiness” by Eugénie Bouquet

“Finding Happiness”

After the Myth of Sisyphus

Restless to climb,
Doomed to absurdity,
To toil at an ungrateful task,
Before having to watch it all,
Her struggles and her pains
Reduced in an instant
To nothing.

Down again she goes.
The men who pass by mock her,
Claiming she is being punished for her arrogance.
Bit off more than she can chew, serves her right!
Maybe… But then why would she go back
To her lifelong companion

And again,
Refusing to defect.
Or maybe striving to satisfy her spite
In the sharp unkindness of the stone, in its strain on her body?
When with an empty gaze, she follows its roll down the hill,
Does she like the racket it makes?
Relishing in the din perhaps as
In music?

Oh, by the Gods,
The greedy ache to comfort her!
To let her rest under my shadowy wings,
And stop the everlasting curse from destroying her.
But no, nothing shall be done. For on the fool’s face, I recognize it. Under the sun’s gash and the blast’s whipping, as she descends for the…
Howmanyeth time? There lies, unaltered
Yet flickering,
A smile.

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