iphigenia after aulis

By Ayesha Ali

It has arrived, as I knew it would

this cold dagger will do me no good

its brutal kiss against the stone

a glinting edge, a blade of bone.

The beginning’s at the end

and I’m the end of it all

you’ve swept through the earth

there’s nowhere left to fall.

They will not wash my body

they’ll let my blood dry

and I’ll blame everybody

who couldn’t look me in the eye.

I give you my garland, my chaplet

my laurel, my wreath

I couldn’t tell you which

they’re all the same to me.

It lies limply on the altar

near the vase of holy water

blessed by fraudulent priests

set on making me bleed.

So let my lips be painted

and straighten out my limbs

my hair’s done up and braided

so start singing your hymns.

It has arrived, and I cannot believe

that they could ever do this to me—

I suppose that this charade

played on longer than they liked

I try to say I love you

but the words fall on their knife.

As if there is a single curse

lurking in the back of my mind

or a bouquet of pretty words

to forget I am your sacrifice.

Soothsayer, dreamspeaker

the gods’ revered messenger

tell me what you know, tell me what I don’t

bind me up in rope, choke out my last hope

now that I know I can never go home.

Before it happened, they covered my eyes

to eclipse all light and steal my sight

my face was veiled in some dark shroud;

witnessing my murder was not allowed.

Swift and silent on their prey do they fall

stomachs thundering like a coming squall

godlike hunger is all they know

they breathe to eat, they are born hollow.

My body is devoured

dissected

deplete

there’s nothing but my blood

so scarlet

so sweet.

My ghost is weightless as air

as it sinks through the sand

I’m stroking my own hair

I’m holding my own hand

I won’t leave me alone

in a cold and barren land.

You came to power in the heat of war

yet you’ve never felt more unsure

your feet fell heavy on that battleground

you swept through bloodshed all around.

Some have no idea what you've done

to make sure it was your side who won.

Before you sail away and leave me here to rot

remember what you did, swear you forget it not:

the hand with which you raised me

was the hand that cut me down.

Have you no shame, father?

Was I worth your heavy crown?