What a way to treat a god, especially of love:
Boarded up, Eros cannot shoot his arrows
To mark his victims.
He cannot even see the crowds below
And fly among them to infect with friendship.
A dark, unnatural world is his on New Year`s Eve
Protected from humanity who would do him harm
It is supposed. Ironical to incarcerate a god
Whose mission is to love.
Impatient for the night to pass, he balances,
Poised ready to shoot another arrow.
His quiver`s full for victims whose new year
Destiny he decides. He cannot wound till morning,
Until the prison`s gone….with all the joyful horde.
Pity he could not fire when so many gathered,
Optimistic, receptive to the future
And celebrating with ebullience a new beginning.
No doubt the hope of some new friendships
Caused some to gather; he could have had a field day
Targeting his darts. Mainly the young are his intended
Who celebrate around his pedestal the old year`s death,
The new year`s birth.
Symbol of youth and expectation, he seems to see the future
With a confidence his votaries share.
Symbol of hope and confidence, he rises from their midst
Hidden though felt. Protected but pervasive,
He presides over their festivities – the young at heart
Who recognise in the statue a sympathetic emblem.
Midnight will toll another day for them.
Another year; another start.
Baffled in the darkness like their totem,
They await the dawn of day
When once more, sight restored, they look into the future
With their god, clear –eyed.

© A.B. Finlay Ph.D