The Logos of Andromache
Keep safe my jewel were the only words
my husband's brother flung at me as he dropped
a shivering and shamed woman upon my doorstep.
hope hidden under a mask of fear and pain.
And I welcomed her. Without hesitation, without doubt
For she had many things to share with me and mine.
Her stories of her youth, her child who still was held
in Sparta's endless muster lists.
She weeped, she cried to the gods, and begged for death.
Her heart rent, her eyes black with agony.
And I refused. I withheld the knife she craved,
I Took her to the wall, and showed her the host,
We spoke. And I held my son in my arms as we did,
his coos at her soft braids bringing tears once again.
She regretted. For it was not her first time
being dragged from home for a suitor.
But this time she had gone willingly, for a promise,
that her daughters would live freely and live for love.
And now the cage, while larger, still held her within.
Ringed by spears, with ships to pursue should she slip the noose.
Promises abandoned. She stood at the wall and placed a foot
upon the rampart. She bid a quiet farewell to my son and braced
for a final step that she thought would end the war forever.
But it was my fingers upon her hand that stilled her.
And I led her back to my rooms, and made her a part of my house.
My husband resisted, for he loved me eternal. While many
thought of concubines, slaves and boys, my husband demurred.
Helen too saw him for what was, and did not shrink from him.
So we closed the blinds. We continued to play the dutiful
and obligated kin to the city, but within tended
to the gardens that brought forth the sweetest fruit.
My husband resisted. He feared. He trusted, and he relented.
Within the walls of Troy, despite the pain upon the plains,
at the breach my Husband stood, at my direction.
For in such times, the dutiful wife aids her spouse completely,
and it was many a late night that I sat with him and her.
And we poured our minds over an image of Troy,
Imagining a escape poetic, but when we found it, instead
blocking up the hole to protect the city.
A pleasant game to defy the cruel game outside.
Comments
Andromache was Hector's Wife.
For those who might like a little background. She was presented by Homer to be the "Perfect" wife, but she occasionally stepped outside of familial duties during the Iliad.
And honestly, I can't help but think about Helen, stuck in a city that she doesn't know, scared out of her mind, with everybody blaming a war on her...
It would make sense to me that she'd try to grab onto any bit of happiness she could.
Thanks to Andromache for her words, thanks to the muses for bringing this story to me, because it's sad, romantic and hopeful to me, all at the same time.
I do not pretend I know what I do not know.
Thanks, detroit.
That, in its essence, is fascism--ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt --
Thanks for reading as always!
I do not pretend I know what I do not know.