Ithacan Lament: A Verse Response to Nolan’s “Odyssey”

Awake, and reenchant our drug-dulled hearts, sweet muse;
The West is washed away and cast upon a shore
Where twisters of the truth conspire to abuse
Your virtues, render you a sham — ambition’s whore.

For all that once was noble, dogged, sure and strong
Is now consumed by small-souled insecurities,
And every feat of manfulness is judged as wrong
Against a backdrop of Olympic vagaries.

What law does dripping Zeus observe but contradiction?
Adamant in will yet swayed by fleeting whim,
That Lord of Justice, battering with no conviction
Wombs or cities, plunders those who honor him—

No hospitality, no quarter. Men are fooled
Who think his proud and cruel divinity benign.
And must the thread of heroism be unspooled
To clothe a craven archetype without a spine?

Behold, the warp and woof of life laid bare by war
And death (no man who loves is stranger to the itch)
—That throated thunder in the wild Achaean roar,
Shall it be echoed by a spayed and whining bitch?

And shall that crafty, sea-swept, city-sacker king,
Returned, his sword of vengeance bloodied to the hilt,
Then abdicate his throne — belie what seers sing —
And stretch his fearsome frame upon the rack of guilt?

Heaven forbid that far-flung Ithaca should know
A monarch so unsuited, or his grasping bride,
And see its world demolished blow by sorry blow
Beyond all recognition — ruins in the tide.

So, sing the Old Song once again and take us back
To wine-dark waters, fated men, and home-sick sighs!
Heroic Clarity and Will are what we lack—
The evils of the day suffice to cloud our skies.

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