Skip to main content

White Sails on the Shores of Ithaca by Benjamin Parker

...


I do not love you because it’s easy.

A crop that flowers without water to bloom,

yet wilts just as quickly.

I love you, Odysseus, because our threads

are so intertwined that even the gods

could never unravel them.


Each day I look out across the rocky crag,

a land far beneath the weight of your status

and the quiet command of your voice.

Yet I never question why you love it so.

The light settling gently on open fields,

the lambs springing into life.

A people not great in wealth,

but in character, and in love for their king.

You and this island are entwined in fate,

as we are in marriage.


But it weighs on me, Odysseus.

I see you in every blade of grass,

every glisten of joy in our son’s eyes.

I see you in every inch of our home,

and yet your ship is nowhere to be seen

on the horizon.


The war may have changed you beyond recognition.

The husband I waved off with silent tears

may never return from Troy.

But if all that remains beneath those white sails,

sped on by an aged crew, is a stranger

wearing your face, then I will spend my days

learning to love that man too.


For I am not the same woman that you knew.

The weight of your office, your absence,

fighting off the stench of rebellion,

wears beneath my eyes like a riverbed.

Nor is our son better off, having only

second-hand memories of his father.

But I know that you, my stranger, will love us

on your return, as we do you.


So as news at last spreads of your victory,

and I stand here in the morning sun,

waiting for the weathered fleet of Ithacan ships,

I know I would wait ten more years if I must.

Even as I hear news of your companions

greeting their wives and children at home,

I doubt not that you will return to me,

even if you have to swim the Aegean alone.


When you wash up on these greying sands,

with Troy heavy on your skin

and darker in your mind, I will love you

far more than I ever did.

So find your way home, my sweet stranger.

Your son, your beloved island, and I

will always be waiting.


...


Benjamin Parker is a poet based in North Wales, with works published in journals such as The Uncoiled, The Purposeful Mayonnaise, and Nawr Mag. He graduated with First-Class Honours in English Literature and Creative Writing at the Open University and has recently completed his MA in English Literature with Distinction.


Instagram | @benparkerpoetry