A Parent’s Greek Tragedy
By: Kyana Alvarez
If you’ve heard the saying, “don’t fly too close to the sun,” but don’t fully understand the context, this short story and poem will teach you where it came from. They’re both based on the Greek myth of Icarus.
After creating the formidable and intricate labyrinth to contain the mighty Minotaur, King Minos, the monster’s stepfather, imprisoned the genius maker Daedalus and his son Icarus in Crete. To escape their prison, Daedalus fashioned wings out of wax to carry them across the sea to freedom. Life inside a prison is stifling and Icarus becomes drunk with his newfound freedom. His ambition, joy and arrogance drown out his father’s warnings of flying at the perfect height. Icarus soars higher and higher into the air as if trying to touch the sun. But the sun’s heat melts his wings and leaves Icarus to fall to his death.
Skyfalling — A short story by Kyana Alvarez
There’s a difference between peering down a ledge and peering over it. Looking over a ledge is filled with wonder, beauty, hope and most importantly, safety. Icarus spent his life looking over the ledge of his balcony into the city of Crete, hoping to one day explore the beauty of the wonderous city. Now, he stares down at his tower, measuring the distance below, while standing on the very edge of it. There is no railing to grip onto and no more dreams of exploring the city. He knows he should tear his sight away from the fall below and look out at the skyline for the last time from an impossible perspective. ‘Don’t focus on falling; look forward to flying,’ he thinks. Not daring to close his eyes, he breathes in the sweet and salty air of the Aegean and hears the music of the city life below.
He shifts his body slowly and carefully, getting a better grip on his waxen “wings.” His father, Daedalus, spent years engineering the wings, using mathematics, aerodynamics and artistry to make man fly – theoretically, as they had no way of trying them before their maiden flights. The wings barely resemble wings of feathers, as they are sharply and precisely cut in geometric forms for the smoothest ride through the sea air. Knowing his father, Icarus knows the wings were initially supposed to be of a sturdier material: Daedalus’ signature steel. But, the steel weighed more than the pilots and would have caused them to plummet to the streets below.
Daedalus and Icarus spent years hoarding and collecting candles from their capturer, having endless nights without light. Even then, it was barely enough. The wings are thin as their bedsheets and Daedalus’ wings are smaller than he calculated they should be. Icarus isn’t worried though; his father is a genius, “The Protector of Solutions,” “The Father of the Labyrinth” and “The Keeper of the Minotaur.” He thinks the wings resemble the maze in some ways, harsh, geometric and inanimate, with no life infused into its design. But instead of locking up a prisoner, the wings would set two free.
Daedalus stares around his and his son’s prison. This room, this single room, has raised and cradled his son. He runs his hands along the walls, feeling the life that had seeped into them for the last 20 years. ‘What stories do these walls hold?’ he thinks. His boy’s laughter, anger and tears are safely hidden between the pockets of stone. Years of labyrinth designs, ladder designs and wing designs are stuffed between cracks in the floorboards. The room is bursting with life, and who will be the one to collect it? They certainly cannot; the lifetimes stored within these walls are too heavy to carry with them. A new beginning is what they settled for. Perhaps the beast himself will ravage the place of its life. The beast that confines the poor boy to a maze and calls himself “King.” The beast imprisoned Daedalus and his son for his “genius.” King Minos: the fickle man who stole from the gods and was severely punished.
Icarus looks back at his father. His eyes are closed and he is smiling with nostalgia back in their jail cell. ‘Only he would miss this place,’ Icarus thinks bitterly. Of course, his father would cling to the shackles that bound them. Like his sentimentality, his parenting chained Icarus to his side, ‘Icarus, don’t lean too far over the rail! Icarus, don’t get too close to the door; the guards may take you! Icarus, stay close to me; all we have is each other!’ Icarus is excited to fly free from his father. The boy loved his father, but Icarus is ready to be his own genius and earn his own titles.
“Are you ready, Father? Let us soar towards our new beginnings!” Icarus says restlessly.
“Yes, my boy. Let me try and soak up the last of your childhood.”
“Bah! Father, it’s too heavy for us to carry. Release those chains so we can fly to our new tomorrow!”
Daedalus chuckles at his son’s vigour and climbs onto the ledge. He spreads his arms into flight position and signals for Icarus to do the same. Icarus puffs his chest and stretches his arms wide as if trying to hug Crete. ‘He looks like such an adult now,’ Daedalus sighs.
“Stay close to me. I don’t know ho-“
“Where else would I be?” Icarus scoffs. ‘Typical Father,’ he thinks.
Daedalus strains a smile and looks up towards the heavens. He offers a silent prayer that his fruitless wings be strong enough to hold him. He hopes he fasted enough for the wings to carry him to freedom. Everything he’s done has led up to this moment. He’s risked everything to give his boy a life. If he fails, who will look after Icarus? Who will guide him on the path of life? He counts down from three and they dive into the city below.
Icarus is alive! Truly alive! The sharp wind drowns out the music and the mosaics of life blur below. He barely hears his father bark instructions to steer, ‘tilt left, tilt right…’ But Icarus already knows what to do and he is already doing it alone! He doesn’t need his father anymore, and his commands couldn’t hold them together anymore. They fly past the shore and over the great Aegean Sea. Icarus is free! He feels powerful and weightless. He feels like a god. He flies past Daedalus; he flies above and below and around him, whooping and screaming for joy.
Daedalus can only watch as Icarus soars around him. The pure ecstasy on his face makes Daedalus delighted and proud of his work. If he dies on this trip, seeing Icarus’ face glow with life was worth it. He would give anything to keep it on his face. Though, the more Icarus soared, the louder he cheered and the more worried Daedalus became. Although happy, Daedalus warned Icarus to stay near him in the middle ground. They would fall into the ocean if they flew too low and flying too high would melt the thin wax wings.
“Icarus! Don’t go too far! Stay close to me!” he calls.
Icarus hears whispers of his father’s voice in the wind. ‘No doubt to tell me to stay with him,’ Icarus thinks. He pushes his father’s voice away from him and flies higher and higher. Icarus is drunk with freedom and high on liberty. Euphoria pulses through his veins, and his body finally has some life in it. He would not let his father’s words keep them chained together, especially not in their new lives. He flies faster and faster, trying to drown out his father’s orders and basking in the hot sunlight. He climbs higher and higher, striving to touch the sun. His eyes are blissfully closed until he feels hot pricks like needles on his legs. He opens his eyes and tries to look behind him – when the wings catch his attention. The paper-thin wings, the fruits of his father’s genius, the robust promise of freedom and a new life, are melting. The sun, the height of freedom, is taking his liberty away. He calls for his father and Daedalus for him. He begs him to help him, to catch him and to never let him go. He plummets fast towards the great Aegean, now wishing his words could fasten them together.
Touch the Sun — A poem by Kyana Alvarez
Standing on the slim edge,
About to jump off the steep ledge.
Looking down at the open sea,
Finally ready to just be.
Years on years in close quarters
Pretending to be some of his supporters.
A labyrinth’s genius and his son
Locked up high, unable to run.
A king made a fool by his wife
He’ll regret taunting the gods for life.
He kept a beauty for his greed
And declined to make it spill and bleed.
The sea god without a sacrifice,
Wanted Minos to pay the price
Of insulting the Lord of Tides
And placed a curse on his withering bride.
She’s birthed a mighty half-beast,
And hid him below the dirt, to say the least.
Demanded my father make a maze
To keep the child forever fazed.
Daedalus, the protector of solutions
Hidden away to serve the institution.
Fits of anger shake the ground,
So they sacrifice prisoners by the pound.
Lost and scared between the walls,
We hear their desperate, terrified calls.
Confused about where to go,
The Minotaur takes them with a single blow.
Guilt-ridden with what he’s created,
My father becomes more irritated.
A childhood inside a single room,
My new freedom was my doom.
Wings of wax my father made
And a hearty goodbye to Crete we bade.
We stand on the edge, ready to fly
“Hello liberty,” I deeply sigh.
We jump off and broadly soar
Terribly excited to reach the shore.
I break free of my father’s grip
Gliding high and low, taking a big dip.
I seek to fly ever higher
Better than my father, I greedily desire.
I hear his voice echoed and faint
But I’m finally free from his constraints.
I soar up high to touch the sun
My wings start melting and I am done.
I plummet fast to the mighty sea,
Now my father is the one who can just be.
