Chriseis
(Lament for a friend)
The first murmurs of breeze
bestow the harbour with
the honied essence
of wild thyme.
Weep, my tortured soul
for here, on this muted
Hellenic paradise, the Gods
have called-and she has answered.
A captain stands, impatient,
piratical, waiting
for a recalcitrant passenger.
One final floral tribute
and, in the taverna,
one last reluctant retsina.
I can only stand,
in hypnotic desolation,
whilst your sepulchre
becomes as a grain of salt
against the isotopic horizon.
Rest now, beloved.
Lay your burdened head
on this crown of hyacinths.
Zeus, in his omnipotence,
craves a mother for his children,
and has chosen wisely.
©Tanith McKlane
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