Odysseus and Calypso
Part I: Odysseus' Fantasy
He sits on his rock
Relentlessly, sits
Weeping salt tears into the wine-dark sea.
Here is a place removed from time
Years pass by and leave no mark
A fantasy island of all earthly pleasures
Yet he dreams only of mortal life.
His mind roves far away
Blank eyes staring
Straining to see a long-forgotten face.
Pale laughter echoes in his mind
His thought numbed by the endless plashing of the sea.
When through the mist
A wavering image materializes:
His prayers, answered
After two decades' yearning!
Long, slender legs walk the glassy surface
Of the broad-backed sea.
A cool hand rests gently on his shoulder,
Its touch so waiflike, it hardly seems real.
Fresh breezes caress his face,
The sighing wind in the guise
Of the longed-for voice.
A mellifluous whisper
Brushes his ear like a butterfly
As if through the barriers
Of space and twenty long years' time.
He turns around expectantly
It cannot be!
Penelope?
The hazy vision fades.
He sees instead
The flawless face
Of his immortal captor.
His thoughts retreat
Fleeing to the darkest corners of consciousness.
His gaze returns seaward
As he resumes his grim vigil of despair.
There are no more blissful illusions.
His body slumps into the sun-warmed sand
Having lost the will to move.