Prideful Achilles. Now sorrowful Achilles. Achilles
whose handsome countenance now defiled
with dust he caught and poured over his face. Mighty Achilles
laying in dust, tearing at his hair -
mightily in his might.

Achilles, worth an entire army,
grieving in his proud heart, now having the need of another
to hold his hand lest he cut his throat with iron - Achilles who
now cried, so terribly aloud, she, from the depths of the sea,
cried shrill in turn.

Of proclaiming himself dead and speaking of the
sorrow she must feel for she would never receive him again, when he was
yet alive - Achilles who felt no drive to live and be among men lest Hektor
is beaten down under Achilles’ spear and his life is lost as the price
to pay for having stripped you.

Achilles, who loved you
above all his companions, and his life,
who wished he had never come to existence, for you,
his dear companion, had perished.

Of being convinced of his impending death for he was
not to stand by you as you were
killed. Whose sorrow beat down by force the anger within him
as you perished with the lack of his fighting strength to defend you.
Fiery Achilles. Achilles who wished to go at once to take to life of Hektor,
accepting his own death, accepting fate would beat him, unwilling to be
persuaded otherwise, to be held back.
You, who he had sent off,
with horses and chariot, who never
came home again to be welcomed.

Who had promised him to return back
alive. Of valour and strength. You. You, who returned to him
dead.

You, whom they all mourned all night in lamentation over, whose chant of lamentation
was led by Peleus’ Son, who laid his manslaughtering hands over your chest,
his dear friend. His warm tears fell, as he saw you, his steadfast companion
now dead. Achilles, who was to follow you underground soon enough, who
would not bury you till the armor and head of Hektor was brought. Who was
reluctant to leave your body to go and fight. Achilles. The headstrong Achilles. Achilles,
who refused to eat or drink even at the persuasion of many great men. Who refused
to take pleasure at anything and lay outside while others in shelter.

Achilles who killed Hektor.
And dragged his stripped corpse again.
And again.

And you came to him as he lay in his dreams
as a ghost. You said he was neglectful of you in death unlike then. You,
who were wandering around unable to enter, told him
your requests. Since it was not for him and you to sit across one another again
alive, and his death was approaching soon, you
asked for this journey to end with him by your side too like how
you and him, him and you, once grew up together. And he, Achilles,
was more than willing to comply and he had one of his own too.
He reached out to you, in hopes of your embrace, and yet
you vanished, leaving him
to wail in despair.

His ashes were buried with yours just as you wished.

Achilles, of swift feet. Achilles, who had no peer. You, his
beloved companion. You, who went in his steed. You, who were more
than worthy of being his companion.
WIll you and him meet once more?

I, who would do this much for you, he, who did as much,
would it be so wrong of him (of me) as to wish
for you (for you) to have done the same should you (you) be alive
And he (me) the one the jaws of fate
had come to take (the one who had left)?

I, who am now sorrowful. Who once sat across you too.
You, who left me too, with promises. Promises of returning back. Promises of
what we could have had.
Will we meet once more?
As a corpse sliced by bronze, or as a vanishing ghost who cannot be embraced
or in the underground where we can enter together, our end as one together,
buried and mixed,
you have yet to return to me.