Witness
And what about our sins?
Darkness in the sky wouldn’t bother with our
sins or pleas, insignificant supplicants that we
were, the fear and anguish rested on tired shoulders
like sparrows on the branches of the plaza tree
and the man with his crutches laughed at the cafe
patrons before he lifted his left arm as if to shoot
someone or to reprimand their pitiful lamentation.
Owl, witness of ancient images, flew away with
its wisdom, man hit his shadow with his crutch
and yelled, ‘I’m good, I’m pure, I’m clean like
my shadow, I’m pure like my shadow,
I’m Übermensch!’
I like those who sacrifice themselves on earth which
might become the motherland of the Übermensch.
Manolis Aligizakis 