Volare 6.1: Katabasis

VOLARE 6.1

KATABASIS κ α τ ά β α σ ι ς CLASSICS CREATIVE JOURNAL

FALL 2022

VOLARE I S S U E

6 . 1 :

Adam Rosengarten Margaux Ducruet Leila Pivato

K A T A B A S I S

IV

Warbling Woods

V

Beyond Death

VI

Dread Persephone

S a r a h P a t t l o c h ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎V I I ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎P r o s e r p i n a Katarina Dyck‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

VIII ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ Hades x

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎P e r s e p h o n e M a r g a u x D u c r u e t ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I X ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ P e r s e p h o n e Annabelle Penney Leila Pivato

X

I miss you

XI

Achilles + Patroclus

Kimberly Hönig

XII

Familiar Faces in Unfamiliar Spaces

Margaux Ducruet

XVI

Eurydice and Orpheus // Eros Mortal Wounds

Marie-Christine Levesque

XVII

Memes

A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T S & A Q U I C K W O R D Dear reader, I am so proud to be able to present this issue of our journal. I wanted to become editor-in-chief of Volare because of my deep love and passion for Classics and its creative reception, and my belief in its ability to bring a wide variety of people together. It makes me so happy and proud to say that we received such a wide range of submissions, moving far beyond even the Classics community at McGill to students from other programs and faculties as well. I am grateful for the opportunity to put this issue together, and I look forward to continue fostering a space on campus for students to be able to creatively express their love of the Classics. I believe that it is through projects like these that we keep the Classics alive, even thousands of years later.

An enormous thank you to the whole Volare team for working so hard to put this issue together. I am endlessly grateful for your patience and support throughout this endeavour, and I look forward to our continuous collaboration. <3 Lots of love, Madison Laxer, editor-in-chief

Editor In Chief Cover Design Layout

Madison Laxer Madison Laxer Emilia Fowler & Madison Laxer

Editorial Board

Emilia Fowler Anne-Sophie Tousignant Maya Abuali Lisa Garbuio

Warbling Woods Adam Rosengarten

Trees do not fall, but rise; yet with many around, they still make no sound; Rousing from primordial slumbers, Roots cast off earthly shackles, and greet heaven on high -- a cosmos apeiron.

Rustled by sweet Zephyrs they are shaken, not by, but with these airy companions headlong to the pipe’s sweeter winds.

Far too long have they served, in those ancient woods, idle, ΠΡΟΣΚΥΝΟΥΜΕΝΟΙ; But now all is kinetic, all is set in motion: yet rivers halt their flow, hares cease their flight with the Hounds brought low.

More Dunsinane than Perian Green, The whole forest is afoot, all of them courageous, aetatis et roboris, Hearts stronger than oak, ready for march to the infernal orbis.

Drunk off melody, a new pompos leads all in sync, They follow not a banner, but a warble Echo links, Impelled in greater harmony than those harmonious sounds, this vernal band is charmed by Sirens more than that Manywayed man.

As above, so below: there be a music to the Shades as to the spheres.

But how far below? Like generations of leaves, one falls, and another sprouts up; but covered now by the canopies, they follow this Pied Piper, to his beloved, and to the shades of even darker calamities.

I V

Beyond Death

V

Margaux Ducruet

Dread Persephone

V I

Leila Pivato

Prosperina Sarah Pattloch Basking in the infinite blaze your arms wrapped around in a dance our longing for each other’s gaze fading further into your trance sun memories tainted by you lost in your words promising love the crimson bleeding seeds you knew would keep me from the life above your grip growing stronger into the night surrounded by pale bones shrouded in black no longer able to see morning’s light the world you created begins to crack I went from flowers to fire as you hurled me into endless months trapped in the underworld.

V I I

Hades x Persephone Katarina Dyck he is midnight rain, a broken island beneath fiery skies. he is heavy silence, donning a mask to hide the miasma of inevitable death. she is subtle wind, blowing through pastel ether. a golden harp, endlessly playing. her beauty rivals that of Aphrodite herself. their love runs deeper than the Mediterranean. they are twin flames, their souls forever entwined. they share a love not meant for this world.

V I I I

Persephone

Margaux Ducruet I X

I miss you Annabelle Penney I miss you The further we get The hazier you become I love you You are now a memory I love you But I am forgetting your laugh

I miss you I am not ready How can I protect Ascanius If I could not protect you I watched as Polites vomited out his lifeblood Priam standing helpless watching A violation Of the fated order Between father and son

I miss you Fatherhood engulfs me My grief is an anchor Is it possibleTo drown in loneliness?

I miss you Like a phantom I feel you on my back I still need you I will never outgrow you Without you I am rudderless

I miss you Despair is heavy Misery is too Their weight Transgresses barriers Between worlds

I miss you I cannot carry this burden Of grief I would much rather Carry you instead

I miss you So I leave I love you As I descend X

Achilles + Patroclus

Leila Pivato

X I

Familiar Faces in Unfamiliar Spaces Kimberly Hönig I left the ten-year battle in Troy with Odysseus and his men in victory.

Stopping in lands like Ismarus and Aeolia, we were facing obstacles only the great Odysseus could lead us through. Although we travelled for many years, we never grew wary, for Odysseus is resourceful and endlessly valient–the finest of leaders. I am very lucky to be a part of his fleet. After a deadly attack by abnormally large men taking most of my fellow companions, leaving only our ship, we finally reached Aeaea, an island that is home to one of the most mesmerizing and beautiful women I have ever seen. I often dream of what it is like to kiss a woman like her. Odysseus is most often in her home with her, upstairs, while we feast. My future wife will never be able to compare to her angelic allure.

Tonight, there is another feast; this one will be the biggest of them all since it is our last meal here before we set sail tomorrow morning. Who knows where the winds will carry us next: I hope it’s home. The nymphs are decorating the island with flowers, vines and glowing creatures, although its lush forests and flowers don’t need much enhancement. They light fires along the shore and throughout the island, giving us the light we need to carry the festivities through the black of night. As the sun sets, the music fills the sky and the wine flows without end. I have never seen so much wine in my life but it is probably the best I have ever consumed. The men I usually see stiff in combat are dancing and moving freely all around me, pouring me wine until my glass overflows. It tastes so good, as if it were divine. I wonder if it is.

X I I

My glass is filled with that intoxicating, red liquid – a mortal ambrosia. Oh, how that glorious fluidity tastes like ecstasy—but at the same time, it makes it feel like the sky is closing in on me. Dizzy, I have to get out. I have to get some fresh air. The pounding of the men’s voices are beating against my skull. My head is killing me.

Outside the gazebo, the party continues with men peppering every inch of the island. I lose sense of where I am or where I should go. All I know is I have to leave this chaos. That house at the edge of the forest seems like the only place where the party has failed to infiltrate.

Though I am walking further from the party’s roar, it is somehow ringing louder in my ears. I want to get out. Ah, I see some stairs! They must lead somewhere… Perhaps a bed to rest my head for a bit? I climb them, but I can’t make out where I am anymore; it’s too dark to see anything. Crawling across the floor, I use my hands to feel for my surroundings, but that doesn’t help me at all. A sudden pain shoots through my whole body like a crack of lighting; I guess I am not used to drinking this much wine.

My hands try to help me again, to find a spot to lie down, to rest. It seems safe here. ...

What is that light? I am only able to open my eyes into the slightest slits because the sun is blinding. My head hurts so badly, I can barely manage to lift myself up. Where am I? What happened? I rub my eyes and they begin to adjust better to the light. It is morning. In the distance, I see something happening. That’s Odysseus’ boat and my fellow men getting ready to leave.

Desperate and confused, I call out as loud as I can with whatever voice I have left: “Odysseus! Don’t leave without me! Don’t forget me! I have to get home! Odysss— heeeeeeeellllpppp!”

X I I I

I finally look around, finding myself on the ground in an unfamiliar place.

As I try to move, I unfold myself from the awkward position my body is lying in. I can tell that the angle of my neck is not anatomically correct.

Panicking, I try to stand but my legs won’t hold me up. My body and my surroundings are eerily foreign to me.

In my confusion, I search my surroundings for a clue but I can’t seem to grasp anything.

And then, I see something extraordinary.

“Achilles? Patroclus? How is it I can see you…how is it you are alive?! Did you not perish on the battlefield and by the lucky arrow of Paris?”

And over there…the great Hector of Troy. Why is he here? Didn’t you, Achilles, kill him? I remember his mangled body being dragged around camp like it was yesterday. And then, out of the shadows, Odysseus appears before me.

“Odysseus? Odysseus is that you?” I call out to him.

I smile, it’s reassuring to see the familiar face of my leader. Perhaps he can tell me where we are. I attempt to run to him but my body refuses to comply with my command. I look down at my disfigured limbs and then to Odysseus questioning my incomprehensible situation. The features of his warm face become clearer to me as he approaches.

“Odysseus…Odysseus, why are you crying?” I ask him. A look of sorrow washes over his face and he shakes his head in disbelief.

X I V

“Don’t look at me like that,” I urge him. “I am frightened and I don’t understand. Please, help me?”

He told me he reminded me of his son, Telemachus.

“Elpenor,” he said, holding back his tears. “You are in the underworld.”

Confused, I try to comprehend what Odysseus is saying, but then… memories of the feast, the wine, the dancing, the headache and then running up the stairs to the...roof…I was on the roof. And I remember falling…and…I finally understand why I am here.

“Odysseus son of Laertes, please retrieve my body,” I tell him. “I would like a proper burial.”

He nodded.

I try to catch my last glimpse of his comforting familiarity but the others begin to swarm around him and he is gone.

I am alone.

X V

Eurydice and Orpheus

Eros Mortal Wounds

Margaux Ducruet X V I

Memes Marie-Christine Levesque

X V I I

X V I I I

SEE YOU NEXT TIME!

Love, the Volare team

V O L A R E . M C G I L L @ G M A I L . C O M V O L A R E M C G I L L . W O R D P R E S S . C O M