Jan 2013
These birds of war that encircle the sky
painted dark by smoke from fires engulfing
events here: every one of them spawns
an illusion, spreading in all directions, until
no twig is untouched: everywhere only
the Mistletoe. Fragrances of the deep night
by the ford under the moon, silken hair
soft for touch under first rays of the golden
morn, images, return broken like imprints
on the ramparts; where now, those oaks
of love that sustained our passion for war?
Years sunk into the quicksands of greed,
After nine winters, now only the Mistletoe.
painted dark by smoke from fires engulfing
events here: every one of them spawns
an illusion, spreading in all directions, until
no twig is untouched: everywhere only
the Mistletoe. Fragrances of the deep night
by the ford under the moon, silken hair
soft for touch under first rays of the golden
morn, images, return broken like imprints
on the ramparts; where now, those oaks
of love that sustained our passion for war?
Years sunk into the quicksands of greed,
After nine winters, now only the Mistletoe.
Odysseus recalls how years rolled on without any promise of return, as he reminisces his lost years (during the Trojan war), while a prisoner on Ogygia, in my (new) take on the classical epic tragedy.
This is a series in the making - here I seek to focus on Odysseus the man and his inner journey, rather than on the (external) Odyssey! In this re-imagining, Athene has conspired to stall Odysseus in his journeys, so that the pain makes him reflect on himself, leading to Her Self-revelation in him.
This is a series in the making - here I seek to focus on Odysseus the man and his inner journey, rather than on the (external) Odyssey! In this re-imagining, Athene has conspired to stall Odysseus in his journeys, so that the pain makes him reflect on himself, leading to Her Self-revelation in him.
