From “Canvas”– Creative Arts Magazine, 2007

Thersites Watching

By Rosemary Pennington

Thersites sits, watching the men walk by
Men arrayed with steel and iron
And their own virility.
He sits and watches all this
And shakes his head,
Lost in thought,
Lost in meaning.

He will not fight this fight,
Oh, no.
He’s had enough of causes,
Thersites has.
His shoulders bow from battles long since lost/
His knees bend under the burden of death
And destruction he carries.
Oh, no, Thersites will not go into battle again.
Not for love.
Or money.
Or fame.

Once, he dreamed of honor,
Just as the men he watches do now.
Once he thought he knew valor
And what it meant to be alive.
To feel the steel in your hands
To aim
And to fire.
To deal death the way a croupier
Deals cards.
He knows better now.

He has been beaten
By men he once thought his betters
But who he now realizes
Are just men.
Just flesh and blood and bone
As he is flesh and blood and bone.
He has called them what they are…
Cowards, liars, greedy,
And not regretted it.
Even as bones broke
And ribs bruised
He does not regret pointing out their hypocrisy.

So, now, Thersites sits and watches.
He watches the hypocrites,
As they speak of honor with one mouth
And whisper of wealth with another.
He watches as they work their army
Into a frenzy of hatred.

He shakes his head