Cry out once more, <br /> Antigone, cry out, <br />until the sentence is lifted, <br />the sentence that keeps the feminine, <br />in chains, subdued, unequal. <br />As you cross the sea cry out <br />for freedom, cry out for your <br />brother, Polynices, the unburied, <br /> held aloft, a wound needing <br />attention. It is Freud, <br />who speaks, 'the repressed <br />will always return' <br />This we know as saints as scholars? <br />in Irelands' fair Isle? <br />Creon, imprisoned too, in a view, <br />a poultice of prudence <br />and its regrets. <br /> Be blind to him, <br />his advice, on continents, <br />where equality is left to rot, <br />cry out, it is your being, <br />of justice, <br />and where ever inequality <br />is prudent, tradition, <br />'what we have always done' cry out. <br />for fashion is the freshness of style, <br />and freshness grows, and calls, <br />'cry out'. <br />Your cry it makes us free. <br />Le theatre hysterique <br />La lecon de Charcot<br /><br />Bernard Kennedy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/antigone-la-lecon-de-charcot/
