she and i we sailed for Ithaka

I. she and i we sailed for Ithaka
early in the morning, before the gods
could awaken from their deep-sea slumber
and summon upon us storms
of pleas and foul words both,
so as to capsize our boat, lure us
like the Sirens back home
to consume our very souls.

relatives came to gray shores
and wept while passing to us
the lotuses we so harshly rebuked
(we were not to be tempted
by false pretenses dancing
on red-tinged souls of black
cores, bad apples made long ago
rotten by anger and deceit)
and tempers flared with fists
flashing. we regretted leaving, yes
as our whole lives had been drops
of dew in a flower only now dying away.

but we could not stay, not
while they plotted to hurt us,
hold us close to only sting
(perhaps they had honest intents,
maybe even they cared for us,
but they never showed it)
for desecrating their temples
and slaughtering their red cows
with innocent words defying
the rules generations had made,
becoming their deepest instincts,
but this never reached us;
we'd never been taught the "obvious."
as i said, the flower of
youth and innocence and familial
feelings, most important of all,
was finally wilting, drowning,
by thousands of hands trying,
trying so long so vainly
to clean it.

we bid farewell and left by
the cove that was both a telescope
and a pit,
though it turned out to be more shallow
than we'd assumed.

II. our tiny boat rocked,
fighting against gales that slammed
harsh and long, trying their best
to snap the mast, leaving
two fresh bodies in the sea.

i could envision myself
within the gaping maws
of ancient and desperate beats
trying to gain sustenance
and escape from the folly of death,
sail between Scylla and Charybdis,
impossible as it may be to do so,
only to have my memory recorded
by a eulogy written by souls
saying "i told you so.
we told you so."

III. we have passed the hurricane,
the tsunami now, my dear;
let us place our feet
in crystal clear water
to soak up the energy
left by thousands,
thousands of life's generations.

ignore the shark rubbing
against your leg; it is a lie
built by an angry nature
for our taking as we please
and living as we want to.

IV. foreign places lie
just ahead of our sight,
those where travelers are welcomed
and newcomers greeted
by a fish tossed to them,
grizzled native citizens
waiting for the sound of a
cold, hard slap of failure
to chuckle and laugh over,
looking away from the green-eared
face embarrassed and ashamed.

we are but Trojans
without even a horse to receive.

V. i see reed rafts
floating by ancient shores.

you and i count
the time in our lives
by the number of days
since we came from the sea.
lives and jobs and homes
never before ours
take some getting used to,
but we've learned much
since our untimely birth.

i see reed rafts
by ancient shores,
but they do not call
for me any longer.