The Blazing Heart of Danko

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Embittered on all sides by trees
closing in, squeezing out hope.
The people looked to sky and earth,
to the old oak and sycamore.
wondering why the birth of a child,
and innocent eyes, led only to war,
only to more of the same,
as leaves fell, as buds burst in pain

Hunted by enemies they clamor
for someone to heed their sorrow,
in dark night beneath oaken domes
and creaking pines, a light to shine
a beacon to find a new home.

Still, fear poisoned the people
from root through sap,
until at last they wavered
in storm blackened night,
held a moot to balance fear and sorrow,
the scales swung in forest winds
As the tempest raged through night
into morrow.

Then Danko proclaimed in rain lashed morn;
“I’ll lead you through swamp and storm
to the golden fields of the steppes,
where horses roam and honeyed mead
is sown by the bumbling bees
and the dark of trees are unknown.”

Young and fierce his eyes pierced them
as the lightening rent skies in twain
the people knew it was time
to hasten from this swampy grave
of darkened woods or forever remain.

On bur choked paths he led them,
as trees bent bows to rake the weak
and lame who stumbled, as the storm
rumbled in thundered distain,

a dark mist of blame clouded hearts,
forest spirits watched and followed
feeding fear with all their arts
of spell and curse, weaving charms
of fibrous despair and sorrow,
while a poisonous fog gathered
in hollows beneath trees,
suffocating the weak with disease.

But Danko forged on, a young tree
stout and strong, refusing to bow,
and the people grew dour,
resenting his fortitude in the face
of their sour weave born fear.
Birthed in anger, they seared
Danko with harsh words of blame,
but the flame of their anger
stoked only the fire of love in his gaze.

They closed in, throttled by terror
unfettered in madness, feral
as beasts they mistakenly gleaned
the fire in his eyes as a daemon,
a forest spirit, clothed in his skin
reflecting the pallor of their sins.
While the dirge of the forests song
droned on in the hollows
and the storm echoed sorrows,
calling for murder in despair.

Danko’s heart flared, in love unquenched
and he raised his hand and wrenched
heart from chest, thrust on high
to light up the sky in living light of love,
And he cried “Is this not enough
to lighten the way? Not enough to burn
a path through this dark place?”

The people were struck dumb,
their minds now sundered of pestilent mist.
In the light of bliss and blazing love
golden fields shone above in the steppes,
the way was clear, all fear was gone
And they hastened on
as Danko stood frozen
as stone, heart blazing like the sun.

The Legend of Danko is a Moldavian parable. There are different versions of this legend but it was first popularized by the Russian author Maxim Gorky who wrote his version as part of his work entitled Old Woman Izergil, published in 1895.

At the heart of the legend of Danko lie themes of arrogance and pride, along with love in the face of anger, and the power of the unwavering spirit. It also touches on humankind's deep psychological imperative to self-destruction and collective mania.

As with many legends, these themes resonate into the modern day. The wisdom in mythology has always fascinated me as the lessons behind them could act as a panacea for our collective mania, our modern day drive toward self-destruction.

Thanks for reading 🙂🌿