AN OLD STORY

We’d heard about the sirens—

cruel sea-creatures as lovely

as their song, as heartless

as the rocks around them.

Our captain’s folly amazed us...

and when he cried and pleaded,

and struggled against the ropes

until they cut into his flesh

and reddened with his blood,

we watched embarrassed—

watched the mighty Odysseus

whimper like a child,

desperate,

exhausted,

his eyes begging us

to set him free.

Myself I heard nothing.

Nor did I wish to.

Why disturb the heart’s

equilibrium,

the peace of not knowing

and not wanting?

Why indeed!

Yet when in your town again

after so many years

I rang you up.

I don’t know why.

I realised when I heard your voice

just how he must have felt,

how great his longing must have been

to break the ties that bound him

and dive into the swirling sea—

the pain of wanting an aching in his guts,

an emptiness that neither his wife Penelope,

nor Telemachus his son,

nor the home he’d sought so many years

could fill.                                               

              But this was much later—

when you said goodbye and I too,

far off in the distance,

heard the sound of sirens.

                                         Pavlos Andronikos

© Pavlos Andronikos.
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