I am Penthos (Grief)

I am the way into the doleful city, I am the way into eternal grief, I am the way to a forsaken race. Dantes Inferno.

Angel of grief, a 1894 sculpture by William Wetmore Story which serves as the grave stone of the artist and his wife Emelyn at the Protestant Cemetery, Rome. Photograph by Alessio Damato (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Alejo2083). This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)

 

 

I am Penthos¹ (Grief)

 

"I am the way into the doleful city, I am the way into eternal grief,

I am the way to a forsaken race...Abandon all hope, ye who enter

here."  -- Dante’s Inferno. 

 

 

Recollection has paled.

When did I arise?

In ages dim, I think.

But I awoke with Man.

The Greeks did first name Me.

But I was here before then.

In darker ages I arose.

In deeper mists I was formed.

I remember not,

But now I am here.

 

 

...And here I live and feed on Man!

 

 

I burst full formed onto Life.

I am Penthos.

I am the despair that men fear.

I am grief.

I am utter abandonment of hope.

 

I am worse than death,

For I give no mercy.

I am relentless.

I revel in despair and wailing.

Sweet is the sound of gnashing teeth.

Sweet are the sounds of beaten breast,

The palpitations of unending pain.

 

I am death without release.

I am suffering without recourse.

I am pain without redress.

I wallow in utter ruin to person,

Dissolution of hope and humanity,

Reduction to hovelling mass,

Ruination for ruination’s sake,

Beyond any hope of reprieve.

 

I AM GRIEF!

And I cannot be defeated.

 

I have crossed the river Acheron

And walked the circles of hell,

Sucking marrow from bones of men.

I make men hollow.

This is to my liking.

Hopelessness sweetens the meat!

Despair sings to Me.

It beckons “Satisfy your hunger!”

And I feast.

 

But bring not hope!

Bring not love.

Bring not that which lifts the Spirit.

I like them not!

Love’s hope, it burns Me.

Bring not that which harms Me,

That which pushes back my darkness.

 

Still, Man is weak.

Many have tried to contain Me,

Many to defeat Me.

But my power is old.

I cannot be vanquished.

 

I am your own.

I live in your fears.

I thrive through heartbreak,

And human condition.

You can’t dismiss Me,

For I am within you.

I am part of your soul.

You have fashioned Me

And I am fully yours.

 

I am Penthos,

Last of the gods to answer Zeus.

Through world of Man I roam,

Suckling on Man’s weakness.

 

For I am GRIEF,

And in life you cannot escape Me.

 

 

 

 

©2009, Richard Puetter

All rights reserved

 

Notes

 

^[1]Penthos is the greek god of grief. He was the last god to answer the call of Zeus when Zeus was appointing responsibilities to the gods and so only grief and despair were left when Penthos arrived.

Reviews

[The Hampstead Poet]

Superb! This poem shows such a complete understanding of Grief, one of the rawest emotions that can be felt. It is true, that in any life Grief cannot be avoided. I love especially that you personified this, and referenced it to the Greek myth of Penthos. It just enforces the feeling of how inescapable it is, and how deeply tangible it can be. An awe-inspiring write, thank you.

[Jasmine]

grief itself - so isolated and relentless - despairs too, in its own origins from nothing and its own merciless chaos. very well written

[Susie Q]

Rick.
Thanks for sharing this one. The last two lines grabbed me the most and so true,
For I am GRIEF. And in life you cannot escape Me. This says it all. Simply still trying to grasp it all.

[Ruth]

omg!
Now this is perfect!
Your use of structure here is to be applauded Rick!
The lines are set out really well, having a greater impact on the reader:)
Interesting God, to use this imagery within your work here is outstanding!
This is excellent!
xx

[heido]

I love how you take grief and make it so cannibalistic. To keep an emotion the form of something that eats away at the matter of onesself.
Well done, and well versed.

[Nancy Lee Shrader]

Congrats, the third time is the charm. So well written.

[Frances O'Neill]

Excellent! I did not see one grievous mistake! LOL. Funny thing about life, though, if we were always full of joy and everything pleased us life would be just too simple.

[cest la vie]

Rick,
I adore this piece for two reasons.
I was not aware that Penthos was grief. I am a simple woman, and this was like a beautiful history lesson. For that, I thank you.
Second, your writing is absolutely flawless. I am just in utter amazement at your phraseology and verses. Simply a joy to read your pieces. Without a doubt, you have a beautiful well of talent. I thank you for being here and sharing your pieces.

Lynne

[Charles D. Moorer]

Grief: an assault on the senses; it feeds on the little child in all of us and at the most dammable times. Nicely done.

[deeps]

But bring not hope!
Bring not love.
Bring not that which lifts the Spirit.
I like them not!
Love's hope, it burns Me.
Bring not that which harms Me,
That which pushes back my darkness

Wow! This is amazing!
I really enjoyed this.
So much truth in this.
This is Awesome!
You write really well!