Atop the wall
away from the sadness of the city,
as an old and beaten king,
I stand and wonder
how long can a broken heart
keep beating?
As a young prince,
as a survivor of war,
I lost my brothers
to the invaders,
to the company of Heracles.
And so I became a king.
And so I rebuilt the walls,
one block at a time,
with the help of the gods
to keep the Achaeans out.
And so I rebuilt my family,
one child at a time,
with my wives,
with my mistresses,
with my concubines,
fifty children,
and their wives and husbands,
and grandchildren at play,
kept safe within the walls,
forever protected from harm,
all to keep me
from ever feeling alone again.
The god-built wall remains intact,
in the tenth year of the siege,
but offers scant protection
from sadness
for sons and grandsons
lost on the Troad plain.
Atop the wall,
my heart
beats
hollow and empty,
but for how long?