In the end, I made myself <br />Known to your wife as <br />A god would, in her own house, in <br />Ithaca, a voice <br />Without a body: she <br />Paused in her weaving, her head turning <br />First to the right, then left <br />Though it was hopeless of course <br />To trace that sound to any <br />Objective source: I doubt <br />She will return to her loom <br />With what she knows now. When <br />You see her again, tell her <br />This is how a god says goodbye: <br />If I am in her head forever <br />I am in your life forever.<br /><br />Louise Gluck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/circe-s-grief/
