Antigone Unit 8

My sister.

Look at me, people. I’m walking for the last time in the open air. I’m taking my last look at the light of the sun—then never again. I’m alive, but death will lay me down to sleep beside him. I have no wedding, & no wedding-song. So death will be my husband.

Young & alive, you’re marching straight into the land of the dead.

Everyone I love is dead.

Where’s my sister? Ismene!

I’m here, sweetheart. Right here.

Wait. Not yet. How do I say goodbye to the sun?

There were others before you, & more will come after.

How black will it be when they close me in? Will it be black as no eyes? Black as gouged eyes? My father leaned on me, but I have no one to lean on.

Because what kind of father would ask such things of a daughter?

…Tell me the story about the women who turned to stone.

There’s no comfort in that story.

Tell me anyway, like you did when we were small.

A stream trickles down its craggy face, & runs away to the sea.

Am I like her?

She was part god, little princess, & you are just a girl.

Are you mocking me? Why? I’ll be gone soon enough, walled up in darkness.

No one’s mocking you, sweetheart.

Wait! I remember something. I remember a day so hot the squirrels wouldn’t run when we chased them. We lay on the grass & sweated. I tried to show you sunspots floating in the air, but you said they weren’t really there either. A spill of water glistened in the road, but it wasn’t really there either. Mama took us swimming in the afternoon. The blue of the pool looked so cool, but the water was almost hot.

I don’t remember that day.

I stayed floating on my back after everyone else had left the water. I floated like that for hours, & the water rocked me up & down, up & down. The sun lit the veins in my eyelids. They made a road map to a red world. Everyone was laughing at me & calling, but I was far away. I dissolved into liquid sun. I became someone else, or no one. I was all light & heat & water, & nothing bad had ever happened to me.

Let me stay a little longer.

You broke the law, & now you have to pay.

But I didn’t know. To leave the air, the light.

As your father paid before you, & your mother.

I didn’t know, I didn’t know…

Such a little package.

Where did my life go? When I wasn’t looking, it passed like a bird, in mourning for the dead.

It’s time.

No! Look at me. I’m still breathing.

I’m alive.

Feel that? Breath. Life. How can the living send me away when my breath is still hot in my mouth?

So much self-pity. It’s time.

No!

It’s over.

Polyneices! Where are you?

Antigone!

My fingers are cold…

Antigone…

Why are my hands so cold?

I’ve been afraid, but now I see—

Daddy! Mama! Eteocles!

No, no—

O Thebes, my city, & my father’s city, see me…

What are you talking about?

Rich men & beggars, children & old women…

The city’s waking up after a long, bad dream…

…Look…

Listen…!

…look, look, look at me passing—

The city is choking on the unburied dead, & God has turned his back on us.

My city! Remember me—and the man who’s killing me—

This living child you thrust inside the Earth, & you leave the dead to rot in the sun.

I see the doorway into the dark…

The dogs & birds are spreading pieces of the dead all through the city—

Who’s there?

Look, look, look around you.

One last look…

Open your eyes, & see.

Light in my eyes, air on my skin…

My child…?

Faces, voices, eyes…

No! Help me. Tell me what to do.

(Antigone gasps for air. Sharp and loud.)

But the law—the city—

Is this my last breath?

There has to be another way—

(Antigone gasps.)

Bury the dead, & let the living go.

Or this?

Bury the body, & free the girl.

(Antigone continues to fight for breath & life.)