Poseidon’s eyes are on you
riding his magical offspring
and, maybe stirred by jealousy
or by divine lust,
You dig a pale soft hand
into the golden curls,
squeezing onto your brother with the other
while you turn towards the shore
that was your land.
You try to steal one last glimpse
–your father’s house, a chimney’s smoke,
the grave of your mother, but
that golden ram flies too fast
–Poseidon still beckons.
You know this is no ordinary ride.
It takes away all memories
and leaves behind a gilded trail;
a promise of riches starting all
the bloody give and take.
And in that trail you see the ghosts
of future heroes; murder of children,
burned down walls and untold pain.
Your tears now fill that gilded trail
and to Poseidon you surrender.