Oh Achilles,
Can you hear the tragedies
Sing out for you?
(Achilles, Achilles, Achilles)
You were drowned
And reconfigured by your mother,
In the River Styx.
She wanted a warrior,
Not a son.
She took away your
Mortality and left you invulnerable,
In all places,
Except one.
Everyone bowed down to you
In fear that you would hurt them.
A warrior from a young age,
Forced to become a soldier.
You were so alone.
Then you met them.
For once,
You felt whole,
Complete.
Like you could conquer the world.
You would lie side by side,
Gazing at the mass expanse of stars,
And smile at Artemis as she rode by
In her chariot.
While talking about everything
And nothing.
"Achilles, do you think the stars shine out for you? For us?"
You would pause and laugh,
Only whispering a response
Whenever their eyes closed,
And your limbs were entangled together.
"I do."
And you silently chant the same thing,
Over and over and over.
(Patroclus, Patroclus, Patroclus)
orion
YOU ARE READING
Ichor
PoetryA story twisted Left and right, Through countless mouths And endless minds. A game of chinese whispers, Each recount slightly different Compared to the rest. A tale of power And a tale of weakness. Faults ignored And dangers conceeded. What is it? ...
