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Joe Puccio
He desired nothing more
Than our malcontent. He wanted to
Displease us as God
Did so to him. Thus,
His means for satisfaction
Ran through our veins.
The beast tested our patience,
He intended for our arms to fall.
He gnawed at our will as he did to our
Brother’s bones. What was only impervious
To his nefarious practice was Him.
The carrier of our fear,
Our freedom, Our honor.
It was He who would end this
Terror. It was I who would fight
With Him. While the others
Would be overcome by the treacherous
Trick the Beast played, I would remain
Vigilant. I disposed of sleep’s insidious
Influence.
Beowulf stood. Not with his feet,
But with his eyes. The irony of
Such power with no Iron to house it.
He lay there, bare to viewing but
Not to fear. My existence was then felt by
His gaze. I remained still, as not to shake
This great honor. I felt a profound pride,
Soon ended by despair. My person was
Joined by other eyes. As if I were
The site of some happening. In an instant,
All was understood. The first pair to
Fall on me were not Those of the great Warrior,
But of whom He sought to destroy. I
Was taken in my entirety. Only in
Doom did I discover that my nobility was
Affected. While the jaws of death enveloped
My being, I uncovered the insolence
Of Beowulf’s ploy. It was finally seen,
That I, amongst most men,
Am only a means to an end.