Yours is not a single farewell
Given ceremoniously at some famed port
No -
Yours is a series of departures
Fresh, raw, unprecedented
Bruising each tender day
With a stamp of rejection.
I am wading in a sea of memories
Haunted by every empty horizon
And the wail of the Sirens is deafening now -
Repeating over, and over, and over
It never was
It never was
It never was.
For Agamemnon the journey was worth the sacrifice
So he looked only ahead
Giving no acknowledgement to the victory that was already by his side
As she followed him up the mountain
Eyes shining, forever in love
Her father
Whole world centered on the careless hold of his hand
Which would soon let go
And come crashing down
Before she could utter the warning
That hollow winds would lead him
On a lifeless journey.
And now that you have sailed away
Home no longer exists
We are all lost at sea
Mere ghosts of our former selves
Interacting without meaning or consequence or thought
Slipping through days
Sinking into the night
Grasping for an occasional memory
That makes us real again, even for an instant
But even the memory is a betrayal.
I think I died right before you killed me
The knowledge of your betrayal was enough
So that the actual departure became a poorly attended funeral
That was quickly forgotten
In the glory of your victory.
Your name is etched in permanent marker
On anonymous boxes scattered throughout the house
Like an incantation repeated endlessly
Acknowledging your simultaneous departure and presence
In the hollow cavern that was once our home.
Outside the ivy we planted
Peeps hopefully into empty windows
And bleeds back into the earth.
I wish that those who say Iphigenia survived
Spoke true
That she broke free of her father’s shadow
And cursed the fateful hand before it cursed her.
Yet those who speak of her survival
Do so with downcast eyes
And faraway glances
At a sea that holds many secrets
Of journeys spurred on only after immense sacrifice.
I wish that those who say Iphigenia sailed away
Saw her launch her ship
On the eve of her father’s departure
Leaving him to miss her.
Yet those who speak of her escape
Can never quite recall the direction of her course
And avoid my endless questions
About a girl who forsake her father
Before he forsook her.
Ours is not an immortal epic for the ages
A song that will be sung and remembered
And revered -
Ours is not a legend that will survive the decades
Or even the years.
Ours is a single, broken chord
Stained with bitterness and regret
Trampled
Broken
Forgotten.
And so it became a cursed love
One that would be damaged beyond repair
And because it was a tale often told
It began to lose its meaning
And since no one could ever take the place of her father
Men no longer existed
And since she could neither forgive nor hate
The emptiness stretched onwards
Like a gaping hole.
Clytamnestra waited
Waited and remembered
Remembered and plotted
When the same winds that blew him from her
Blew him back again
She recalled the original departure with vivid clarity
Agamemnon returned in all his glory
Battleships returned and docked at victorious ports
The heart of the world beating in his palm
Fury of woman, anguish of mother
Clytamnestra’s bloody rage splattered on cold marble
Iphigenia avenged
But my mother weeps quietly.
She fought him all the way up the mountain
Cursed his decision and screamed for her mother
Invoked the gods to bring down their wrath
And begged them simultaneously to bring peace to her house.
In the last moments, though
When it was just father and daughter
Alone on the peak
She fought him no longer.
There are no living witnesses
But there are those who say
That in their final moments
There was only tenderness.
The House of Atreus was built on Iphigenia’s love for Agamemnon
And if Helen’s face turned the proud Greeks eastward to Troy
Then Iphigenia surely cast the first victorious sail
For even though it is said that the wisest goddess loved Greece best
It was the mortal child who ultimately lay willing at the alter
Assuring her father eternally favorable winds.
I dreamed last night that you came back to us
The sea tenderly washing you onto our shores
And all the battles and years of abandonment
Became the dream
So that all that was real
Was how the story began and not
How it has unfolded.
Awake, I search for our story
In distant myths and legends
Seeking answers
Always hoping that the stories will change
But they all end
How ours has now
The House of Atreus was glorious once, too.
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