ODE TO MY THETIS

See notes below 04 05 14 - 04 11 14

ODE TO MY THETIS

 

I. Now That Mythology Are Metaphors

 

If children truly come

from where adults go

I bestow upon my clinically

banal chronology / retroactively

my acquiescence in the now

 

On the verge of graduation's

seven-pound paperweight augmentation

motherhood's soft-skulled juju

hung upon your future like

an anatomic pendulum

 

II. A Sinkful Of Styx

 

I hope I crowed more than cried

when I implemented the percussion

of my scissored legs

on the porcelain pond cistern

cradle of the first element

manually passed to me

 

My feet were groomed for golden paths

until their holy water was applied

to the wrong end

 

My education was already sewn

into yours like an applique of metanoia

 

With colicky jaws I absorbed

your higher learning's sacrifice

 

Maybe mortal minds are computed

to be born for battle after all

 

With embrace-entreating arms

I arrived in a roughshod beeline

on your lap's academic paper remparts

 

All I now recall are the smiling

armistices of coiled arms impervious

to hallowed grades and graduation

 

III. The Island

 

Nova Scotia's Masterpiece

our tourism department declared

 

Before I walked tall enough for shadow play

the shorelines of Cape Breton

bore no shortage of Poseidons

steel-toed and rubber-booted

stirring waves housing once-abundant fish

 

The Cape Islander fraternity

envisioned futures of ascension

for their offspring / masterpieces

in the gallery of tolerated

middle-class settlement

 

Cue the courting of the most

destiny-embattled ocean guardian of all

an off-season carpenter

and oft-seasoned mechanic

destiny demurely hibernating

in his shadow and mummified

divinely in yours when the ocean

opened up its rippled gates for

his swan-song's ashen tenor

 

IV. Now That Mythology Are Metaphors

 

The destiny of a success-augmenting son

never did evade the sixty-thousand

dollar paper

 

I never learned to fish on recalcitrant currents

never learned to build on measurements

never learned to revive palliative revvings

 

But I learned from you to live

when friends and all the others died

 

With every loss you taught me

how to walk again on brittle heels

 

For every solemn mantra marked

for trading in a walk on my feet

for a death on my knees

your embrace was like an island

hereafter residence

 

The shadow nursed exultantly

in selfless stages of maternity

you'd spread amongst the dunes in

a soulful amalgam of Elysian exceptions

lobbied for in your immortal

accented platform

 

Every telephone diatribe of despondency

is a practice in forgiveness for you

and a reason for tomorrow's hope for myself

 

So much for the prophecy of child prodigies

 

Your methods scrawled in perfect rings

fortifying an entangled family tree

 

My madness like depressed termites

forever barricaded by my love for thee

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Achilles

When Achilles was an infant, his sea-goddess mother, wishing him to share her immortality, dipped him into the river Styx. However, in doing so, she held him by the heel, and the part of his heel covered by her thumb became his one vulnerable spot.

Thetis

A most tender mother to Achilles, the greatest of all Greek warriors, during his violent career. She was pursued incessantly by Poseidon who offered her marriage. She comforted him during his depressed mood over the death of his friend Patroclus during the Trojan War. She was told by an oracle that any son borne of her would be greater than his father. The birth of Achilles would fulfill that prophecy. After his death, she demanded his soul of Hades. Raising an island from the sea, she placed him on the island, providing him with Patroclus for company. She also reclaimed his father's shade and placed it on the island, which she visited daily.

Reviews

[Rita L. Sev]

Your methods scrawled in perfect rings
fortifying an entangled family tree

Through our mother's eyes,we first learn to see the world... humbled, crumbled, or exalted. Your blending of myth with truth is amazing, providing the reader with background images for our own emotions. Wonderful write, Steve.

[kublakhan27]

Thanks so much Rita, this one was a delicate endeavor, as it always is when mixing myth and memoir, but my mother's reaction made it all worthwhile...she actually doesn't read a lot of my writing, but she liked this one very much.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i am still digesting this mix of real life and myth...i like how you blended them together, in what appears a tribute to your own mother.

mine loved me the best she could, but encouragement was not always there and thus faith in myself, was an achilles heel.

i was dipped in the river "be careful or you'll screw up"---"if children truly come from where adults go"
wow, ain't that the truth.

[kublakhan27]

Thanks so much Jacob, I can relate to much of what you've said...it doesn't really show up so much here but my parents were a lot like that...then again, I was just born sheepish so maybe I had it coming. So glad you enjoyed this one.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

well most of your writes really hit a nerve with me, my friend.

[kublakhan27]

(For those of you who are familiar with the myths, and are really picky about them, yes, I tinkered with them a bit, but that's been going on for centuries...there are a lot of personal connections that are too in-depth to explain here, but there connections that my Mom will be well aware of...on a strictly literary level, I know this isn't my best work, but obviously I wasn't going for literary perfection here...happy Mother's Day mom...love you)