scattered thoughts

The Iliad is a song. A slow and painful music. Rather than the chronicle of ancient Ilion, an account of her history, it is a dirge. As all requiems, it is an intense remembrance of life. A recollection and recognition of life.

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The actions of Agamemnon, fraught with deep dishonor and discord, justify the wrath of Achilles. He rages against clear injustice. The weight of the poem rests on this. The tragedy lies in his unrelenting and uncompromising hold. For the consequences that unfold in the poem, the deaths of so many noble men on either side of the field, the death of Sarpedon, the death of Patrokles, result directly from the just claim of Achilles.

In the Iliad, wrath is the face of justice. Grief the face of mercy.

Acute and clear, the grief of death brings man into sharp relief. Confronted by death throughout the poem, in the final book we are confronted by the living. The stark contrast is an austere confrontation with being itself. We see this severe, internal war manifested in the weeping eye of Priam. Like the shield, it is a wonder. In their encounter, Achilles recognizes what a man is. He is moved to mercy. Priam is not simply an enemy king, but a father seeking his son. In truly seeing his enemy, Achilles sees himself. He weeps with Priam, and his heart is opened.

The war music does not end in discord. It ends in harmony. Achilles relinquishes his claim on justice. Though the war will continue, and the city will fall, the wrath of Achilles has died. The poem of war is a movement toward mercy.

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Note:

I wrote this rather hurriedly a few nights ago. I wanted to revise it into something more substantial to post, but I am unsure how to proceed. Essentially, I am wondering if this line of thinking makes sense. Please, comment. I am not as certain as the tone indicates.