Polyxena and Achilles

A fleeting truce it was to be

To honour the brother that died

For twelve long days and nights

Not a teardrop fallen dried

Sacrifices too small for the great

To our patron Loxias were made

For what purpose, I dare to ask

His most loved had been slayed

A chance sighting they claim it was

To me an act of purest fate

Why else would I be forced to love

My kin’s killer as my mate

Women’s charms may work a dream

Just that to vanquish an enemy

But it was just love, no imposter

It was no base act of felony

The anti hero had a splendid entry

With the gentle hope of quiescence

Was I to know that the lightest ray

Would have a hasty evanescence

Crafty negotiations with persuasion

And so we were to be wedded

The sea went calm, the sky went blue

My name with his would be threaded

I learnt then what a paradox was

When his hand encased my own

For those hands took a life I loved

And his was a heart of stone

And curse my heart, I forgave it all

When his lips touched my wet cheek

Guilt and misery I should have felt

But I am human or perhaps just weak

So we knelt, joined to be one

I surrender to him heart and soul

It struck me then, lightening swift

With him, and him, I’m whole

But rejoice not now, Malpomene comes

In a fit of malevolence and sorrow

And he takes a breath, the very last

Slain by Alexandros’ arrow

And that last breath should be mine

I just wanted a little, girlish claim,

On his spear, his sword, his armour

The golden glory and far reaching fame

It happened too fast, ended in a flash

By my brothers misinformed bow

It hit both the right and wrong man

And the very last love I would know

They guided me so, home and away

Was I numbed, lost or distraught

“Don’t cry girl, an enemy he was!”

Or so I have been for long taught

Ten days and ten nights to a funeral

Like so the immortals leave

And for the son of sea nymph Thetis

Even the gods of Olympus grieve

The greatest warrior ever to fight

Would not be satisfied this day

The fiery ghost of my soldier king

Sprung forth and demanded his way

Dragged I was from my mothers arms

No protests these Athenians hear

But who would fight or speak for me

Without Hector we are ruled by fear

His specter asked for just his wife

When living for her he had willed

And to appease their warrior lord

An innocent could surely be killed

Now at his tomb with fate watching

I fear joining him in Hades

But remembered with him, I may be

When all but his splendour fades

Zoya S.