Obscured Fate

Samantha Smart

Lord Odysseus has gone,
far across Poseidon’s realm.
I am left in Ithaca,
lonely, yet far from alone.
One hundred eighty-seven youthful, handsome
men pursue me.
Yet I shall choose only one.
Who shall the lucky man be?
Antinous, with his olive complexion,
rich ebony curls,
and frozen heart?
Or maybe Eurymachus,
with his dark features,
luxurious auburn locks,
and heart of steel?
I pray you, allow me to complete the weaving of this shroud
for Lord Laertes, father of Odysseus,
else Death shall come for him,
icy finger tips reaching for his innermost soul.
I should be dishonored by even the humblest peasant wife
if Laertes, in all his wealth,
lie in the frozen, relentless ground with no shroud to cover him.
But little do you know,
you charlatans,
you men infringing on my grieving heart,
that you have been deceived.
What is easily woven into intricate designs
by the fiery light of Helios,
beneath your ever watchful, carefully scrutinizing eyes,
is just as easily unwoven by Artemis’ silvery gleam.
And I shall wait, with longing in my heart,
for Aphrodite to restore
Odysseus, though long he has been gone,
to my eager arms.