acrylic, collage, yarn on paper
penelope's tears II
Book 19: Lines 151-159, 167-169
I yearn for Odysseus, always, my heart pines away.so my weaving won't all fray and come to nothing.
They rush the marriage on, and I spin out my wiles.
A god from the blue it was inspired me first
to set up a great loom in our royal halls
and I began to weave, and the weaving finespun,
the yarns endless, and I would lead them on: 'Young men,
my suitors, now that King Odysseus is no more,
go slowly, keen as you are to marry me, until
I can finish off this web...
This is a shroud for old lord Laertes, for that day
when the deadly fate that lays us out at last will take him down.
I dread the shame my countrywomen would heap upon me,
yes, if a man of such wealth should lie in state
without a shroud for cover.'
My very words,
and despite their pride and passion they believed me.
So by day I'd weave at my great and growing web--
by night, by the light of torches set beside me,
I would unravel all I'd done.
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