Atlas Poem by Neera Lollbeeharry

At the edge of the plain,
In an unfitting frame,
Stood all bent, a mighty giant.

He had dared to rebel,
And was now condemned,
To bear the sky on his shoulders.

His legs all crumpled
His shoulders in pulps
His chest all bloodied and hurt,

He stood all lonely
In scraggly defeat
And bore the eternal load.

The burden ever piling,
His arms tense, trembling,
He felt all crushed and spent.

But no Heracles came,
To relieve his massive pain.
Nor was reprieve his fill-in lot.

His life was all subdued
Into timeless servitude
And he had no right to shrug.