Neglected and

abandoned by all,

save hope –

Through cracks

in a sidewalk,

flowers grow.

Travelling down

The sandbanks Of deceit

With a Swish swish swoosh

I find my Feet

Amongst the reef

And I am Armoured With a Sword Fish

To cut through The many Lies

That fly Around me.

© Deborah Gordon 2008

A bed slipper accepting a foot without question. A plate accepting a half-cooked frozen dinner—it’ll be buried in mayonnaise anyway. An old car that starts in winter—a lovely child was conceived in that. Going home—where you really

came from.

Saying good-bye, as you must.

Indecision clouds the mind

much as the veil of fog

that gently obscures the early morning moon.

Reminiscent of moments

in which resolve takes on an air of conviction,

yet uncertainty slowly drifts in.

It is said that nothing is permanent in life except change,

and I am witness to that

as I watch the dark sky surrender to the sun.

Although still masked in fog,

it carries forth the prospect of opportunity.

This is an excerpt from Odysseus-The Epic Myth of the Hero, a novel length, narrative poem by Marc Ladewig, published by Infinity Publishing,com. Odysseus has left the isle of Calypso and been shipwrecked by the sea god Poseidon. He swims for three days and nights, musing on his life. He goes back to a time long before the Trojan War. His father Laertes sends him abroad upon an embassy to Sparta. Along the way, he meets his future wife Penelope for the very first time.

“This said, I sailed for Sparta, rowing hard

past Point Taenarus, then an easy run

to shore with trailing winds, landing where

the River Eurotas meets the sea.

We eased upstream just past the bend and came

to cliffs the Spartans call the Ducks.

Along the broken rim stood lines

of citizens and soldiers who watched

their king condemn his eldest daughter.

“Icarius beckoned to the edge by sword point

and spoke these words, ‘Arnea, my eldest girl,

I knew the instant when I made you with

your mother Periboeia. Yet the love

I feel for you is not returned

in equal measures back to me by one

I have the right to place demands upon.

Your marriage is business of my estate.

The man you wed, I chose, or you can die.’

“This said, and true Arnea backed up to the edge

and spoke her spirit, ‘Father dear, you are

the last unkind old man I’ll ever see.

You claim my heart is yours to give in love?

I’ll fly instead, and trade your long sad choice

for one last free regard of fleeting life.’

“And as you fell, Arnea, sweeping backward,

I reached my arms to catch you far away.

Already I knew that if you died,

my life from that day on would be in vain.

And then the air beneath you came alive

in feathers. Ducks glinting sunlight softened

your fall midair like god’s dear hand and bore

you gently to the waters right before

the prow of my black ship. I reached my hand

to help you step onboard, your long blond

curly hair completely dry; a miracle,

and everything, the only thing I knew

I’d ever want, until my heart ran out,

was you, Arnea.

“I took you by your hand and called up to

your father, ‘Now king, cruel, cruel father,

you’ve gone and lost the treasure of your house.

You’ll win no fame for this. She has survived

your sentence, by the will of Zeus.

I say that none may cause her any further harm

without provoking his almighty wrath.

I swear to all in range to hear my voice,

this woman is a gracious prodigy.

She needs a home and throne to sit upon.’

“This said, and stunned Icarius answered,

‘I know the conquering force of Zeus

before my very eyes. No further harm

shall come to her. But, hear me, stranger,

are you noble as you seem, or are you

a pirate here to raid us in our sleep?

At any rate, be sure to know, Arnea still

is daughter to Icarius.

She never shall be wed until she bend

her will to mine.’

“I turned to look Arnea eye to eye,

‘Never bend to him if you would be my wife.

I’ll find or steal a way to win your love.’

“Arnea smiled like flowers opening at dawn

and spoke these promising words, ‘Let every step

we take from here be ones to draw us closer.’

“I faced her father once again, ‘I am

Odysseus, the son of brave Laertes,

king of Ithaca. I give you back

your daughter, knowing Zeus is feared by all.’

“And now Icarius spoke mocking words,

‘Yes, bring this girl of mine to me,

defiant ingrate that she is.

And saved by god sent ducks from justice

falling on her. Ha! We’ll call her something

different now. Why not Penelope,

in honor of her saving fowl?’

“Your girl looked straight into your eye and said,

‘A king will call his daughter what he wishes,

and dutiful to your oath, I’ll bear

this silly name.’

“And from that instant, every step I’ve taken

here in life has been to be close back at home

with you, Arnea; that name is now

an ancient secret that we share between us.

I only call you by it on a sudden

in our bed, the one I carved from living wood,

the olive tree that grows up through our bedroom

floor in Ithaca. There lies all

the immortality I crave

and all the beauty I can understand.”