Letter to Patroclus
Patroclus, my heart's most faithful half,
Didn't I tell you to stay in the chariot? To not throw the spear? I felt betrayed thinking of your disobedience. The way your smooth tongue found a loophole amongst my words, just like Odysseus would, and you returned to me, unbreathing. Ah, Odysseus, back with his lover, Penelope, in Ithaca, and Hector with his family in the underworld. I saw the reunited family when I finally met my demiseâwhen I saw Paris shoot that arrow towards me, guided by Lord Apollo. But to my utmost surprise, I did not see you here in Elysium. Paradise, they call it, for heroes like me. But is this even paradise when you're not here?
I wandered around, searching for your soul, wanting to express my love, gratitude, resentment, and guilt toward you. However, I am met with only great kings, princes, and other heroic demigods and mortals who know my name. Hearing my name praised by them isn't the same as hearing it from your lipsâthose lips I've tasted so many times. I fear the men and women after our generation would consider us mere brothers, cousins, or best friends. You are most definitely more than that to me, my Philtatos â most beloved.
As I sat by the River Lethe here in Elysium, I must confess, I wanted to bathe in it, to erase the memories of my pride overruling my judgment. Hubris, the sole reason I lost you. Then I pondered; I whispered your name, "Patroclus, glory of his father." Pater...Kleos...was the "glory" I was chasing and fighting for my whole life...you? You were there all along, begging me to help the Greeks, but my foolish self cared more for Agamemnon's insult toward me than your life. Briseis was right; you were worth ten of meâŠeven more. I remember those nights when you, unbreathing, lay beside me. I'd jolt wide awake, screaming that I am finally here to help you win against the Trojans, against Hector. Then I look to my side, and there it is; your cold, unmoving body, your pale hands that once held my face. I shook your body. No response, and I, once again, wept.
I wish we were back in Chiron's humble abode, just eating figs, playing the lyre, and training. We could have grown old together. I could have thrown an apple at you and bound our souls together, Homophrosyne, like Odysseus and Penelope. But wishful thinking would get me nowhere now, wouldn't it?
With much love and regret, Achilles
This is my entry to my enlistment in my club at university; no one should repost this literary piece into which I poured my heart. I only wanted to share this since I am really proud of it. Please contact me IMMEDIATELY if someone reposted it on any social media platform. Thank you!
Artwork credit:
alessia.trunfio. (2021, December 1). âHeâs the half of my soul, as poets say.â Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/p/CW6H2jOrJBc/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==
