There is Something Left Over,
Oct. 19th, 2025 09:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jurys_out So we were together
though I did not think of you
for ten years;
it is more than ten years
and the long time after;
I was with you in Calypso's cave?
no, no - I had never heard of her,
but I remember the curve of honey-flower
on an old wall, I recall
the honey-flower as I saw it
or seemed to see it
for the first time,
its horn was longer, whiter -
what do I mean?
"bite clear the stem
and suck the honey out,"
a child companion or old grandma
taught me to suck honey
from the honey-flower;
what is Calypso's cave?
that is your grotto, your adventure;
how could I love again, ever?
repetition, repetition, Achilles, Paris, Menelaus?
but you are right, you are right,
there is something left over,
the first unsatisfied desire -
the first time, that first kiss
the rough stone of a wall,
the fragrance of honey-flowers, the bees,
and how I would have fallen but for a voice,
calling through the brambles
and tangle of bay-berry
and rough broom,
Helen, Helen, come home;
there was a Helen before there was a war,
but who remembers her?
though I did not think of you
for ten years;
it is more than ten years
and the long time after;
I was with you in Calypso's cave?
no, no - I had never heard of her,
but I remember the curve of honey-flower
on an old wall, I recall
the honey-flower as I saw it
or seemed to see it
for the first time,
its horn was longer, whiter -
what do I mean?
"bite clear the stem
and suck the honey out,"
a child companion or old grandma
taught me to suck honey
from the honey-flower;
what is Calypso's cave?
that is your grotto, your adventure;
how could I love again, ever?
repetition, repetition, Achilles, Paris, Menelaus?
but you are right, you are right,
there is something left over,
the first unsatisfied desire -
the first time, that first kiss
the rough stone of a wall,
the fragrance of honey-flowers, the bees,
and how I would have fallen but for a voice,
calling through the brambles
and tangle of bay-berry
and rough broom,
Helen, Helen, come home;
there was a Helen before there was a war,
but who remembers her?
Every time I read this poem I am reminded of the daring Joseph Kavinsky and Ronan Lynch from The Raven Cycle, my favorite rotten pairing. There's something so Joseph in these lines. If you peeled away his levels of hatred and revealed the vulnerability, I believe this would be what's left.
Memories, repetition, something left over, and the whole thing unsatisfied. It's thirsty and wanting, sickly and forgotten. One has to feel bad for Helen. One has to feel bad for Joseph.
It's very easy to think of Ronan and Joseph's relationship as one of being stuck in the cave. Not open; not out; not admitting. There can't be forgiveness left for both of them. When Ronan's gone, when he destroys the delusion, Joseph is Helen. He's out of the war he was never in, and he will not be remembered afterwards. There was no Helen before the war. There was no Joseph before Ronan.
Bite clear the stem and dream yourself everything you've ever wanted. Dying's a boring side effect.
