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It is the stories we tell

They tell the story of the Trojan horse,
how the Greeks hid in its belly
the better to get to Helen.

Inside the citadel
the gates fast shut
they waited silently
swords crossed on knees
breath hushed.

For them no border to big
to take back the prize.
No death too painful,
no loss to proud to bear
the narrative of Troy.

We tell ourselves these stories
the moments of triumph
the moments of sadness.

We live for the narrative
away from ourselves
in our cells of ourselves
we float borderless.

Across borders bodies flee,
crawl through holes,
swim seas, cross forests.

They run, they walk,
stories held in their heads,
it is all they have,
and the Trojan horses
scattered across the land

wait.

Patricia Osborne: Born in Wales. Lives in Brighton

Image: Detail of The 13th History of the Human Face (the portal of H.) by Eugenio Dittborn. Photo Credit Alison Bettles.

 

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