(listen to the poem, read by Diane R. Wiener)
Ages past, the Cyclopean walls stand guard,
To the memories of those one-eyed monsters,
The brothers who gifted Zeus the lightning,
And those the myths call uncivilized monsters.
None could lift a mountain as easy as them,
None could tend to the sheep as perfect as them.
There’s no gift precious than ours that won the gods
The Heavens, and Zeus, his prized weapon and throne.
Did their jealousy make them name us monsters?
Was it jealousy that made monsters in us?
Was it to justify Odysseus’s pride and
Your hero’s thievery that made us monsters?
Soon the gods vanished, left to dust in stories,
But what about those monsters, the Cyclops?
Men couldn’t find Gods anymore, but thanked the gods,
For taking those monsters away from plain sight.
And the most monstrous thing we do these days is,
To laugh at the ignorance of you humans,
That you don’t see that fitting a fake, blind eye,
We live among you, and you call us brothers!
About the Author
Jesse Pulikottil Francis is a cyclops living with a fake, blind eye, among “normal” people. He identifies as a mathematician by profession, and as a teacher, a programmer, a writer who explores different forms of writing, and an artist-by-passion.