Penelope gazed into Odysseus's tender eyes, abandoned in thought.
Will they harden as the bloodshed flowed on?
She was aware that the vital fluid now flowing in the veins of his adversaries
will shortly stain his hands, and
atrocious sights torment his dreams.
In an instant, lost in that immense and perilous sea he will be,
where even the gods do not dare to venture,
without a guide nor faithful companion,
and when Troy is reached, only pain, horror and chaos will reign in his agitated mind.
She could not bring herself to utter a single word,
and silence descended onto them both.
She was lost into his eyes, her own filled with sorrow.
Oh the memories, the scarce blessed memories she had of him,
she would shelter them safely in the darkest corners of her mind,
hopefully not distorting them as time flows by.
The image of Odysseus training Argos the hound,
merely a pup, invaded her,
the pair of them running through the fields of grass,
sprinting as if life had no limits,
as if every single obstacle could be overcome with facility.
But life is filled with disillusions, Penelope thought,
as perfection may only exist where the gods reside.
Life is ready to leap at you in all occasions,
surprising you immensely,
covering your eyes with her long bony fingers,
impeding you to see the gleaming radiance of the sun.
Then, swiftly moving her obscure shadow
down to your nose and mouth,
conquers your mind with despairing thoughts,
not letting you breathe nor scream.
And you, helpless, struggle to break free,
but in vain, because darkness has got you,
as Twilight swallows every beam of sunlight from the day.
And you rest there, powerless,
as Atropos confidently draws out her abhorred shears
to cut away the life of someone you love.
The long thread vibrating for one last moment
before falling onto the cold floor,
away from all the others and yet unforgotten.
Tormented by these thoughts,
Penelope remained there, impassive,
wishing to yell,
to embrace Odysseus for one last time,
but an invisible force impeded her to do so.
She felt cold, devoid of emotions,
as if her own soul already rested
below the mighty feet of Hades,
forever cursed by the Queen Persephone
not to love, nor feel a single sentiment.
One of the shipmates, Eurylochus, cried out Odysseus's name
and he, with a rapid movement, took Penelope's hands,
holding them in his own.
That was enough for a goodbye, as the silence
brought by Aphrodite is sacred and carries an intense meaning.
As a god descending from Olympus he stealthily left,
secure of himself, his shield glowing under the light of the moon of this restless night.
His eyes appeared to be brimming with tears as he
observed his House for one last time.
His loyal hound, Argos
wagged his tail in a deferential salute.
Odysseus then scrutinised the horizon,
trying to detect the snare in that apparently calm multitude of water.
As, from her window, she saw the ship depart,
realisation dawned over Penelope.
She had thought of his departure as a distant dream,
never had she fully become conscious of the
transformation her life will undergo
with no husband by her side to comfort her,
to hold her and escort her
through the arduous journey that life is.
With no news of him she'll have to live on,
patiently awaiting for the war to come to an end.
With her dear son, Telémakhos,
living solely by her side, with no paternal figure to remind him
not to be lead astray of the just way.
Beginning from this instant, he could not be in her vicinity
to take her hand and hold her into his arms when she most needed it.
And if Hades chose to receive him in his House,
other pretentious men will certainly approach her,
but none as authoritative and intelligent as him,
none as mighty and astute.
She immediately decided that
no other man will ever thieve the place that for him
she kept reserved in her heart and soul.
No other will ever be worthy of her love,
as forever enamoured of Odysseus,
and solely Odysseus she will be.
Her agony increased as she perceived that
she could not follow him,
chained in Ithaca she had to remain,
obliged to lead a monotonous life.
A long shroud she wanted to weave,
to use as a shield against all affronts,
against all the grief that presently dominated her soul,
to hide from life,
to hide from pain,
to hide from herself.
A shroud in preparation for her death,
as she thought she would gradually perish of misery.
She wished that her soul could leave her
instead of remaining inside,
deprived of life and joy to live.
Here, she silently whispered a prayer
directed to the gods who on Olympus reside,
mainly to the sage and knowledgable Athena.
Pouring her dear heart out into these powerful words
she asked the grey-eyed goddess to take the mighty Odysseus's side in this brutal war.
As Dawn gently spread out her finger tips of rose,
sweet tears rolled down her cheeks, and she finally weeped,
her aching heart thumping with grief in her breast,
while anger rushed through her.
But in the profundity of her heart,
she knew he would come back,
making the whole of Ithaca proud,
the Trojans will be defeated and Odysseus
will sit on the throne once more,
but with added illustriousness to his kingly stance.