#the song of achilles poem

LIVE

i think about you when the sun dips low to kiss the earth

and the night engulfs the empty sky in an embrace

because i know that in silence,

that is when you are alive.

— death, please come for me too

we are children running on the shore,

sand creeping in the spaces of our toes

as we stomp hard enough to leave a mark

because this is all i know the world will remember me for.


we are children running on the shore,

feet never truly touching the sea

because something lives underneath the waves

and you always try to protect me from her.


we are children running on the shore,

hands clasped tightly with each other’s

as we cherish the times we have left to spend;

marking the days we did not know were counted.


and then i was a ghost stuck on the trojan shore,

desperate, and yet unknowing how, to come back to you.


— pyrrhus, why?

goddess,

how do you want me to love?


you think so lowly of this boy

who has scraped his wobbly knees

to chase this omnipotent being

that you call your son;

worships brimming from my throat

and spilling from my wounded lips

because he is a god amongst mortals.


you think so lowly of this boy

who does not want your son to perish

even if he is forgotten through time,

because what good is his epic

when he is dust?


you think so lowly of this boy

who loves achilles

for what he is not allowed to be—

a boy.


so tell me goddess,

how do you want me to love?

how do you want us to love?


— prayers thrown at the sea

my love,

our souls have been bound longer than time can tell.

when i cursed my father for sending me away,

i did not know that it was but a thread in fate’s woven tale.

all of my shortcomings were meant to lead me to you;

the weakness of my hands

and the fear in my heart –

they all were telling me to come to you.

so my love,

this time around,

come to me quickly.

let not even death separate us.

just like how you were waiting for me in phthia,

i will be waiting for you from our tombs.

— from his ashes

mother,

am i selfish for being afraid

and angry

at the prospect of him loving another

once i am gone?


she said,

he will rather slice his own neck

than love someone not you.


i preen at her reply.



— am i like peleus?

so many times i have lain awake in silence,

hands pawing at the emptiness seated within my ribs

as though they knew that i am never myself without you.


so many times i have whispered your name,

the only part of you that i possess,

in hopes that it will satiate the desire i have for you

growing in me.


so many times i have wished for this day to come;

when my love is fully returned,

and my heart now whole as you offer me the half of yours.


so many times i have prepared myself for you,

but nothing ever prepared me for the loss that love would bring with it too.


— this is what i will lose

when he grieves,

it is easy to forget that he is the best of us—

the hands that tore down hundreds of charging men

now shake as they reach out to the empty space by his side.

the back that stood tall as he led us onward

now bows to the earth as though pleading the lesser nymphs that they be kinder than the warring gods;

as though begging them to bring back what once was.


but as he continues to grieve,

you begin to remember:

he is the best of us,

but his beloved was the best of him.

“‘what was his best part?’ / ‘his lover, patroclus.’ ” - circe, pg. 211

i have imagined a thousand lives that i would live when he is gone,

but none of them bore enough happiness

to make his death worth everything the prophecies spoke of.

ah, i thought,

there would be nothing left for me in this world.

i turn to my side and watch him sleep.

my love, i will follow you in death.

(“As for the goddess’s answer, I did not care. I would have no need of her. I did not plan to live after he was gone.” - pg 188)

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