“You may forget but
let me tell you
this: someone in
some future time
will think of us”
― Sappho
Sappho sits coy
in
a one-room rental in Cambridge, Ont., a maiden whose lyrics uncannily mirror the longings, desires, scars of another female, centuries later, in a script dissimilar, yet, beneath the unfamiliar symbols, familiar aches and emotions are discovered.
Gazing at the rugged cliffs of Lefkada Island, the dim scene gets re-staged: a driven woman takes the fatal plunge into the blue expanse below, hungry to devour
the poet whose words echo relentless from the dark gaps in the empire of memories.
A drowned figure; some surviving fragments.
A suicide? A myth? Depends upon retellings of personal stories. But there might be some truth.
Why do some poets die young?
Virginia Woolf. Sylvia Plath. They choose death over living.
Heavy loss for the literate world; a casualty for others, mere statistics!
Cursed for being a gifted woman. Mourned by future daughters.
Phaon, the Ugly, was abusive—his male offspring wander the corners with that smug smile, after every conquest in the bed.
Why did you die for a brute?
Sappho: epitome of beauty, love, goodness, power of lyrics; forever banished
to the land of shadows, where your voice rises above the dead!
You are the Un-dead walking the corridors of time for new seekers.
O, Mother! O, Poetess! The Tenth Muse!
I see me/us lodged in your enchanting words!
(From: The diary of an androgynous reader)
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Sunil Sharma
Sunil Sharma
Academic |Writer | Critic | Editor | Freelance Journalist | Reviewer | Literary InterviewerEditor: Setu: http://www.setumag.com/p/setu-home.htmlWebsite:https://sunil-sharma.com
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