Long before I wrote the poems included in Penelope’s Web, Penelope had already become part of my imagination. She was the first character I ever portrayed on stage as a teenager, and the first figure from classical mythology to whom I dedicated a poem. I have never thought of her simply as the woman who waited. Waiting is perhaps the least interesting thing about Penelope.

What fascinates me is that she transforms waiting into action. For twenty years she preserves not only her household, but the political and moral order of Ithaca. She governs without ever occupying a throne, exercises power without violence, and resists without becoming destructive. Her famous web is far more than a clever deception: it is a language. Every thread she weaves by day and unravels by night becomes a statement of freedom. She refuses to let others determine the rhythm of her life.

Odysseus is celebrated as the embodiment of intelligence, strategy, and resilience, forgetting that Penelope possesses these same qualities. She understands politics as deeply as he does. She knows that survival is not always achieved through conquest; sometimes it is achieved through patience, discernment, and the ability to postpone an irreversible decision.

Perhaps this is why the ending of the Odyssey has always struck me so profoundly. When Odysseus finally returns, Penelope does not immediately recognize him. She tests him. She asks for proof that only the real Odysseus could provide. The final recognition belongs not to the returning hero but to the woman who has preserved memory itself. Intelligence recognizes intelligence.

I have always admired female characters who possess this strength. They rarely dominate the narrative through force; instead, they shape it through language, endurance, and moral clarity. Their power often remains invisible, and perhaps for that very reason it lasts longer.

Penelope’s Web, originally published in my collection Coffee Stains on My Books (and which gives the name to the Selected Poems collection – Penelope’s Web), was born from this fascination. It is not a retelling of Homer. It is a dialogue with a woman who continues to speak across the centuries. A woman who reminds us that weaving is never only about cloth. We weave identities, relationships, memories, and cultures. We weave the stories that allow us to remain ourselves while everything around us changes.

Perhaps this is why Penelope still feels so contemporary. We live in a world of constant acceleration, where movement is often mistaken for progress and visibility for influence. Penelope teaches something different. She reminds us that there is also strength in remaining faithful to one’s values, intelligence in restraint, and creativity in perseverance.

For me, she has never been merely the woman who waited for Odysseus: she has always been the woman who never surrendered herself and her vision and to the will of others. A woman whose resilience is rooted in intelligence, language, and discipline—a woman able to remain faithful to her purpose despite immense personal sacrifice and fatigue.

Penelope’s Web