Every day, I regret we didn’t sail straight into those rocks.
The stories say I wanted to jump overboard. They’re wrong. Tied to the mast, I heard the sirens’ song, but it wasn’t tempting at the time. They kept repeating, “End the odyssey here. End the odyssey here.” I yearned for home, so I ignored them.
Now I live knowing Penelope fended off suitors all those years while I entered every foreign woman I met. Every day, Penelope’s eyes. She knows. And I continue my silent lament: better to have ended my journey and let the sirens gnaw my bones.
Neville Hunt about 5 years ago
How nice to have a bit of classical content in a drabble. Poor old Penny and what an arsehole her old man was, but that’s blokes for you!