Letter: Odysseus to Penelope

Letter: Odysseus to Penelope
~Michaelus-biotsrama

Dearest Penelope,

My heart is aflame
With eternal longing, twenty years deprived
Of your sight. The days endlessly drag on, as
The tide rises and falls, and as Helios, seated
In his golden chariot, treads across Heaven’s
Fields of sapphire blue. My voyage home is
Stalled, again, but this time by amiable folk
Upon this blessed isle of Skheria, home to the
Phaiakians – a fine sea-faring folk, who, unlike
Me, have not incensed Poseidon, the earth-shaker,
And invoked his iron wrath. Alkinoos, King
Of this land, has keenly received me into his
Lavish fortress of graceful opulence. A majestic
Manshion it is, steeped in gold, silver, ivory;
Adjacent an orchard of perfumed exotic fruits
Challenging the splendor of the courts of Olympos –
The lofty abode of the almighty gods.
Now, by the moored ships of the inland bay,
King Alkinoos and the good Phaiakians
Gathered together to arrange my homecoming.
Whereupon the kindly king ordered their finest
Craft and most seasoned crew to escort me
Across the winedark sea, Poseidon’s realm.

Then that congenial King Alkinoos, my host,
Decreed an athletic competition among
Their finest youth, an event held in my honor.
I observed in awe and admiration as the
Competitors vied for victory, godly in
Triumph and defeat. But this splendid hour
Was broken by Seareach, an arrogant firebrand,
Who, in brazen boldness, accused me
Of weakness of mind and body, a parasite
Off the unwary rich. This being no exception
That a man’s honor supersedes his life,
I bitterly accept his challenge,
Despite my wearied body – worn by the
Whims of the sea god Poseidon. In one
Effort I flung that discus with godlike
Strength, ten leagues farther than the
Closest Phaiakian. At that Seareach
Made genuine atonement and offered me
His finest weapon of war, a broadsword
Of bronze and ivory composite, worthy of
The forges of Hephaistos and the palms
Of Ares.

That night, sometime later, after radiant
Day had fled to the rosy west, harried
By Luna, Queen of the Night, Demodokus
The blessed minstrel ushered into the royal
Hall. At that instant my mind leapt back
Twenty years prior, to Ilion, at which my heart
Begged the divine minstrel to sing that protracted
And mournful tale. In respect he joyously
Accepted, the Muses beginning to
Feed him the words of that forlorn
Account. Tears hot and burning erupted,
That I could not suppress; my heart
Seemed pierced with pain by Artemis’s
Silver arrows dipped in fire. Yet
I dared not pry away my ears.

O dearest Penelope!
Sweeter than nectar of the gods
That saw my lips while entrapped
Upon Kalypso’s prison. My ear
And tongue dwell in Troy and
The countless perils since, but my heart
Mingles with yours in Ithaka and
Stands beside brave Telemakhos,
Who must now be a man. Arms
Joyously outstretched, eyes wringing
Profuse tears of rapture – that is how
I shall return to beloved Ithaka
And you, my wife, my Penelope.

Your husband,

Odysseus