The Dead
(In shrouds and praying shawls appear singly and in groups amid the graves. They whisper and breathe their words.) Swiftly into the synagogue!... Hasten!... The hour of midnight is long past.... Hasten....
(They hasten to the gate. One sees only their silhouettes in the dim light of the veiled moon.)
I thought we would not come out today at all.
The dead fear the breath of the living.
We fear them more than they do us. There is no peace betwixt life and death....
No peace ... no peace....
Indeed life vexed me grievously today.
Vexed is not the word. I lived in their life so really that I shuddered and feared.