Mothers Coffins

Just a slowly forming, abstract play of motherhood and life as a whole.

*The stage is dark in the beginning, but not bare. The sound of a rocking chair swaying back and forth and a mother singing “Rock A Bye Baby” can be heard is a hushed but happy whisper. Bright rays of “sunlight” reveal only the face of the mother. Her hair is dark like rich soil and flows gently to the middle of her back. Her face soft and round like Earth. Her eyes bright and round with curiosity and wonder, like the sky, yet hints of sorrow like the moon. She has a green willow wreath with lilies spun into it. Ivy leaves sprout all over her body, like she herself is a plant. The embodiment of life. Her body and face is young, but she is the essence of wisdom, grace, patience and understanding. She is our Mother Nature. She knows the audience is watching, but never glances over to acknowledge them. Her bright spheres are transfixed on the bundle of vibrant cloths in her arms that coos sleepily. She is a state of awe, as if she is seeing the most exquisite, remarkable treasure ever to have been brought into being.*

MOTHER NATURE: (She speaks in a soft, amused tone) Life. It never seizes to amaze me. The way it turns from something that I nursed at my breast and planted in the earth, into a molded, eccentric creation of its own. Not one creation is the same. Each branch of life has a different mind, a different body… a different soul than the rest. Thus, not a single one shares the same fate because they shape their own. (She looks at the audience) I am merely the planter. You’re all unconscious potters or woodcarvers. Artist of yourselves. Whether it is your instincts, your consciousness, or your experiences that shape you, I don’t know. That’s for you to decide. But it’s truly something to ponder. A remarkable gift or treasure, if you will. This- (She is once again transfixed on the child) This is a treasure…(The mood shifts, the bright rays of sunlight have darkened into a sad, deep blue, though her voice doesn’t portray sadness but rather, matter of fact) I wonder what she would’ve decided to become. (She pauses, looking at the child, and only then do you see the sadness in her eyes) Some decisions make me truly question if it is a treasure though…if consciousness is a good thing for humans to have. (She ponders this for a moment, though you get the impression she’s been contemplating this her whole existence. She is brought back by a thought, and she laughs to herself.) You humans, with all your ideas and capable vocal cords, have only come up with Seven “Wonders of The World”! The Colossus of Rhodes, The Great Pyramid of Giza, The Lighthouse of Alexandria. All of these manmade buildings you call wonders. However, you, the creature who made the wonders, are not considered a wonder? Perhaps you did at one point. Consider yourself a wonder that is. Perhaps…or perhaps you were all to modest, or perhaps too immersed in your instinct to survive. But you’ve seem to have lost it now. (Another light shines on the small casket that is in front of the rocking chair but was concealed by the darkness before, she continues to rock the child soothingly.) You’ve lost something. Whether it be your modesty, your dignity, your curiosity or creativity, I’m not sure. That’s for you to decide just like it was your decision to become what you have. But then again, maybe you didn’t lose something at all. Maybe you’ve become to immersed in your instinct to survive, to surpass all others, that perhaps you’ve grown too arrogant and bitter.  

Author's Note

It's still a draft and the divinities know I deeply need help, so if by any chance, you have a few ideas, give me a post. Thank you love lilies.