odyssey

in serenity it speaks
the cool turquoise water
its delicate salty ripples
streaming over my chest
and lapping my lips
in small, rhythmic waves
carrying the little golden glitters
borrowed from the sun
mixed with the salty brine
teasing my senses
and flowing through my head

these waves
once sent forth from ancient boughs
echo siren voices
amid Achaean cries
and the songs of nymphs that lie
with naught but hope
still longing to love
under mortal eyes

here,
in the realm of a protean depth
distant songs of the muses
still somehow carry
through the ripples
of the deep, wine-colored sea
resonating in the tides
to the melody of their voices
and the incantations
of their poets
now forgotten
to all but eternity

but the sea turns foul quick
and our dreams always fade
like Odysseus’s ship
lost among the dark frothing waves
that have buried many
in their drunken rage

I am left behind by the sea
I that am dry and sober
and never once let it carry me off
when it showed its passionate nature
when it seemed the waves
were waving me
I felt not like Odysseus
I felt not like any weary conqueror

I could not even feel
the simple pleasure
Argus must have felt...
Argus the dog

but I do know this:
looking across
the now unbearable tides
I know the Cyclops still stands
there on his own shore
blind and crippled
yet without a hint of vengeance
defeated, yet without anger
he stands looking out
as I do
out from this beach
where Odysseus once made his escape
and he has often thought of making his

and he is happy
though long since left behind by his own race
he is happy
that at least others have had their chance

happy that life goes on despite him

now the swaying winds
toss their weight
upon this wide blue world
conjuring the ghosts
of warriors and demons past
stirring from the depths
of their seabed tombs
stirring back to life
Odysseys old and new
under the soothing blanket
of ancient autumn rains