Ismeneism
Antigone by
Marie Spartali Stillman (1844-1927)
We shared one womb, but I got all
the fear.
My sister scares the very crows. Just look:
That shielding, showering hand could never brook
Soldiers or scavengers. And I am here,
Clutching the other hand, half-turned to peer
At this blurred grave. What trouble someone took
To part our grappling twins! But nothing shook
Her undimmed heart, where all the dead are dear.
Pale arm, pale breast. Dark drapes, dark crows. The
choice
Seems very simple, doesn’t it? For her
It was so: she was willing to incur
The worst. And even now her ringing voice
Excites me, in this dream I can’t dismiss …
If I had dared, it would have been like this.
Ruth S. Baker
If you have any thoughts about this poem, Ruth S. Baker would be
pleased to hear them
