all that was icarus

October 2020

Here is what they don’t tell you — Icarus laughed, as he fell. Threw his head back, cast his arms out, bared his wax-streaked chest to the world as it watched. Up, and up, and he had heard his father’s calls, he had understood them, he had thrown them back out to the wind and roared as those first few drips of wax peeled down his shoulders. There was a bitter triumph in this, crashing when he should be soaring, hearing the screams of the sea as it ached to hold him and his shattered bones. But he was not broken, yet. Darkened curls twirled with the boy, the prodigy, the fallen angel, and he twisted through the air far faster than he ever could have hoped to with the wings still solid on his back.

The wax scorched his skin, blazing trails of red and gold stretching down his hips, his thighs, his ankles, until it cooled in the wind that begged and begged for the strength to hold him back. Feathers floated like prayers past his fingers, slow enough that even the watching gods wept at the irony, salt water running rivulets down their own divine cheeks and joining the sea which rose to greet him. Icarus, his father screamed, and the syllables tore like a fever from his throat, a strangled cry as he sped with all that he could to save all that he had left. Flying, and falling, though — such vastly different things. The boy was not faster so much as the man was simply lesser, for he had given his whole soul to Icarus; there was nothing left within himself to save. Even the sea, under the sun, was on fire, roiling and breathing as flames did — all, and Icarus, painted shades of gold. 

Tears and wax drew intertwined pathways down the mortal stretches of his skin. Burning, and aching, and as joyous as the boy had ever known to feel. Take me, he whispered once. Take me, he whispered again. Take me, he cried out, and it was the last time that the world would ever hear his voice. 

And a smile. Brighter than the sunlit ocean below him as the waves curled to welcome his body, a grin reflected by the water in the moments before the crash. There was a certain beauty in setting the world on fire, and watching, from the centre of the flames. 

All that was Icarus plunged into the ocean at speeds which not even Athena could hope to match. Bones did not break so much as they shattered. Waves did not crash so much as they screamed. 

All that was Icarus, laughed, and laughed, and laughed.