#nothiding

Why, Lady?

I have to ask.

So many why’s.

Why not choose differently?

Why not give us a Queen of Ithaca?

Choose a young lusty lover,

choose three,

throw them away,

husks of corn,

choose again.

What could the old father do?

The old dog.

While your husband lies with the witch queen,

while all the time Nausicaa is there.

(That is a fear. To fall in love is dangerous.)

Why did you not storm the temple of wise Athena,

she so solicitous of your man always,

and demand better?

The loom is a lie.

Spin and weave,

spin and weave,

all you unravel is you.

And your son,

your son,

in the end he leaves you too.

Your man,

cunning Odysseus,

man of many ways,

so clever and yet, driven always from his home.

He is grey now, and his body worn.

Always those mighty friends, where are they now?

Achilles burned.

The wine dark sea reflected his fire each night.

You could boil those seas with your rage for a year.

You weave and unravel,

and please old Laertes, and trick the young men, wasting all that is yours.

Cunning Penelope, woman of many thoughts, problem solver.

Why not be Queen?

Let the old man roam, let him tary with with his sorceress.

Let him fall in love,

perfect Nausicaa,

ah.

Let the son find his manhood out of this shadow.

Burn it all down and choose you Penelope.

Choose you.

14/12/21