Icarus Fell

I was there when Icarus fell,
Dropping from the sky to the sea’s foamy swell.
I saw the splash, and I heard his cry,
But none came near to recast the die,
To redeem his error and to pardon his lapse,
As the heavy waves caused his wings to collapse.
And on the sea’s surface sat feathers of white,
Soft waterlogged symbols of youth’s failed flight.
For none could approach Apollo’s glare,
And show such gall and avoid the fare.

I was there when Daedalus wept,
Cursing the hour when first he leapt,
From land to air, to escape from Crete,
So brief tasting victory, so honey sweet.
But now bearing the load of a child to bury,
No hope to relieve the burden he carried.
In Sicily, finally, he laid down his wings,
Given to Apollo, whose justice still stings.
And though Daedalus was a wise man, still,
His empty heart grieved, and with pride did fill.

I was there when Perdix fell--
Though this is the story that none want to tell.
Daedalus had hoped that his nephew would die,
But Minerva had heard the falling boy’s cry.
Daedalus was exiled for his terrible deed,
Wandering the world, but never quite free.
So I wonder if ever, in the dark of the night,
He wondered if he had deserved the gods’ spite,
For if Minerva could stop the death bell’s knell,
Could not one have aided when Icarus fell?