A Song for Those Who Mourn What Has Not Yet Been Lost

Thetis hears my tears in the dead of night, when my imagination carries me farther, to the shores where I lose you; you say you will stay, and yet I can still hear my memories of you from a past that does not yet exist.

I see your eyes, dark as salted pitch, and hear words of passion, and feel the pain of no longer having you.

The future of your absence corrodes me; the scourge of jealousy pierces my heel, untouched by the waters of the Styx.

I no longer feel worthy of love; I am guided by something that haunts me.

Perhaps the sons of the Dardanelles have taken you from me, but I know your longing and your fury for freedom are to blame.

I let the present enter my walls, walls I had always boasted were impenetrable; I thought I had finally won the war, after driving out so many armies.

A lie. The wood had rotted, and from within it came the destruction.

The warriors of the golden cities enchant and seduce you; not even the warmth of my camp and my love are enough to keep you.
The fear of the wounds of the unknown draws you in.

Return to my island in the sea, before it is swallowed by darkness.

You say you have fought battles and crossed the Aegean to get here, but the fortress of the strait you have always wanted will never be enough; I will never be enough.
Why stay with her alone? Go after Pedasus and Lyrnessus.

I think I have already killed others of you, and now the red river of corpses tries to drown me in revenge; it is useless to fight the waters.

I would build you a thousand ships and gather a million daffodils from Gaia, knowing the earth will open beneath me.

The seagull nymph Ino gives me the veil and tries to save me from you, who sinks my raft, but the road to Ithaca seems impossible; something keeps pulling me back.
I am always turning my gaze eastward, even as the blind man of Thebes guides me west.

Will some Priam one day lay down his crown and return my soul to me?