Not ever to be born

surely was the better choice!

 

By cruel fate we’re torn.

We lack a voice

in our dreadful ends;

we forever know

and forever show

the gods aren’t friends

to any living thing…!

 

Yet, though washed by sea,

we also can’t be free

of the constant sting,

the deepest, hopeful stain,

of mortality!

 

So, then,

what, a mortal, can

I hope to gain

through more striving?

 

You sing on. I leave

your number; not to grieve,

nor as one surviving;

 

But just to leave—alone,

beaten—far from youth—

shriven of all but truth;

with one foot upon each stone.

 

 

(Editors’ Note: “An Elder Resigns from the Chorus of Oedipus at Colonnus” is paired with the preceding poem, “Mourning Becomes Jocasta,” by Jane Yolen. Both these poems are read by Erika Ensign on the Uncanny Magazine Podcast, Episode 37A.)

© 2020 Peter Tacy