The last chapter of Omeros functions like an epilogue for three main characters: the narrator, Helen, and Achille. The narrator takes one last shot at explaining the purpose of his "singing" or poetry: to reveal the character of his people on St. Lucia. He makes it pretty clear that he wants to give voice to a population that might otherwise remain silent to the rest of the world.
He tells us that the "goblet is broken," hearkening back perhaps to the vase in the opening of the poem that calls him to this work. In dramatic fashion, he tells us that his life's work is done now, and he can descend into his grave to join Maud and Hector.
Helen makes out all right, working as a waitress and managing her growing belly. But, Walcott says, you might just see her for herself without all of that Greek stuff in the way. She is the beauty of Africa now, proud and lovely—and not something out of ancient Europe.
And finally, Achille. The entire weight of the poem seems to rest on this last vignette in which the hero slaughters fishes on the seashore. It's the final nod to ancient epic poetry—the hero killing it on the battlefield—and Achille has risen above earlier turmoil to triumph over a vast haul o' fish. But in the very end, it's a domestic scene. He's carrying a piece of dolphin home to Helen in Hector's old bailing tin. It seems that the "hymn of the Caribbean" will carry on to the next generation.