I Am not Here
My Child, Tonight I read The Odyssey -- Book 11-- That trip to Hades Some call hell And I almost wept For Odysseus When he asked His mother Why he could not hug her After not one but three attempts And she said, Basically, Darling son, I am not here. Where imagination meets spirit, You are alone. Your flesh feels it; your mind knows it: My voice comes from your heart. All that sacrificing, Carving up those beautiful animals For the gods and for your feast And all that drinking of the blood of your victims So that I might speak-- What do you think that is about? Despite all your hard living, you cannot answer. I will tell you: It is in your living that you hear my voice;` Take life in your two hands, But be ready to let it go, To turn back from everything you think you want And remember what you love. Go back, my dear. Love who you love. Forget this illusion. I am not here.