Danse Macabre
2021
The Wall of Hands in the Lascaux Caves (Circa 15,000 BCE)
The hands rest on the wall like peaceful flames
In layered plumes of burgundy and gold,
Their fingers reaching from their stony frame
In vivid colours from a time so old.
It’s haunting to see all these painters’ hands;
This wall once warmed by breaths blowing chalk dust
Now cold with stencils from a bygone land,
For their art still gleams while their lost bones rust
Is it not mankind’s natural urge to drop
An anchor in this stream that never waits?
Whether great art, or brave feats, we won’t stop
Trying to carve our lives into Time’s face.
Yet what of me? Could my hands leave a mark
As deep in the cave of man’s finer arts?
I used comparisons such as in stanza two’s final line to contrast the immortality of art with the mortality of man and bring greater highlight to how art marks our legacies. I also used metaphors in stanza three’s first two lines to show how it is a natural urge
to permanently mark our lives deep into the passage of time that carries on without us. I took advantage of the volta as well in the sonnet to emphasize a deep fear I have after seeing this iconic cave painting; to be forgotten forever in the future and my lack to produce a memorable piece of art