Achilles Mourning Patroclus; The Heroism Of Grief

it was when Patroclus was killed that Achilles
crazed by grief sought out Hector
to gather dust behind
his chariot

as both heroes were
some Thing to
some-one and when
there is a piece missing
then the spear is cold in
hand, melded in grip and it is
all right that, to death,

there
is an equal of pain on earth.

it is preparation.

that is the death of others and ceasing
the war in moments for a word or verse
to be written, blind Homer saw that grief.
perhaps his sight was Patroclus. perhaps the
wringing body of Hector, trailing Achilles in his
maddened vision of friends and the scattered
rose petals along the ground are nights alone
when speaking gave way and it has turned to blood,
the reminiscing.

war breeds brother hood.

one of the soldiers of Troy was Aeneas and his back ready to hoist his father across the great sea homeward.

(that is Achilles now;
in sunglasses and an Armani suit on some
street in Asia Minor. he has killed Hector
years ago) and now he
is searching for the
ghost of his other half to
tell him it has been
enough and there is that
part of him now as he limps in
fancy shoes and with no
purpose as to the islands of
Greece and the cities he
thought he knew.

Patroclus is far off now.

Each river is not Styx and Troy has fallen to the odium of pretend history long since past.

There is only
heroism when spawned
from crushing
grief

he would have told Agamemnon that it was nothing and
returned to his armor, if it had meant
as much