Polyxena

I was a god in all
Except mortality. Now, I am a slave. That name
Alone, being new to me, makes me in love with death.
— Polyxena in Euripides' Hecabe
Achilles covets you from beyond the grave, Polyxena,
and has arranged for you to join him. Be honoured.
Agamemnon is against the slaughter, personally,
but memories of Iphigenia come between his breath
and any force his words might carry.
Hecabe no doubt has an opinion, but mothers
are so rarely asked on these occasions.
Polyxena takes command of her execution, choosing
what has been chosen. Unpinioned, she steps
on to Achilles' grave, kneels, rends her garments.
When Achilles' son stands before her, she positions
his sword above her heart, leans forwards — she is doing
it all for them, with so much more style than they.
Dying, she hears a moan high in the throats
of a multitude of men; this act of ritual pollution
seals their victory, clears their journey home.
For Polyxena, it is a translation from present slavery
into concubinage with a Very Important Shade.
She takes with her what she achieved in life:
an adamantine possession of self;
the brazen courage to take on death,
to hold an entire army in her power
and to defy her own powerlessness.