ODYSSEUS
In the worst moments,
when the sea rises up to engulf him
or fires the arrows of the sun
to scorch his eyes,
the image he clings to is not
the nymph,
or the sorceress,
or his wife or unknown child.
It’s the thought of roots,
strong and hale past death,
stretching into the earth.
Above them, the life he made
for himself remains,
held firm and fast,
a promise of something
(anything)
else.
And he thinks,
all is as it should be.
Author’s Bio
GENEVIEVE MACKAY is a working writer, musician, and arts administrator living in Vancouver, BC, where she also completed her MA in Ancient Culture, Religion, and Ethnicity at the University of British Columbia. Her work has appeared in Room Magazine, Front Magazine, and in Leaf Press’s “Monday’s Poem” series.