& love was war
before Alexander weeping for more worlds,
before Sappho’s grief drowned the moon.
no Orpheus, no Eurydice—
a chipped obol in Charon’s palm,
a candle snuffed before the prayer.
a name that remembers me backward,
yet not at all—
a book erasing each word as it’s read that never meant to skim.
I wrote you into the Iliad—
the sea does not keep its dead.
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Author:
H.J. Rivers (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 12th, 2025 09:36
- Comment from author about the poem: I've been obsessed with these ancient stories lately - Homer, Greek myths, all that heaviness & sometimes, when you're deep in heartache, it feels like you're living something that epic. That’s how it felt, writing this. It’s not so much about what love is, but what it does to you: love is the war we keep fighting even when we’ve forgotten why. Even when we’ve forgotten who.
- Category: Love
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: H.J. Rivers, sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments3
Greek myths like Melvil's Moby Dick are metaphors that reach the archetypes of the soul left after tens of thousands of years they resurrect in poems pulling at heart strings invisible to the mind. Your poem so masterfully crafted weaves these sagas and myths into meaning and leaves the reader awestruck and feeling something long buried unidentifyable but real. Very nicely done and deserving of a fave.
That is a very clever write that gives a purposeful message between it`s lines, enjoyed the read
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