SMS Draft: Ma says I look like you. I take her word for it–it’s hard to compare memories to reflections.
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SMS Draft: Man, what can I say to you besides hey and happy new year, besides one day soon, besides I love you too, besides mama’s doing fine, besides silence?
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SMS Draft: Dad stands hesitant behind my teeth–Barred, and though there is this gap, Dad does not slip through despite a gentle push from my tongue.
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Mama raised me to be careful of namecalling.
-Rahk
Setting the Scene: Curtains open. Three women of varying ages and three men of varying ages face each other; a pair of women, a pair of men, and a pair with both. The lighting shifts from ample light to low light, mimicking the performers’ voices.
Males: We are told that we are flowers–
Females: That should bloom a certain color–
In Unison: So that we might
Male Facing Female: So that we might
Female Facing Female: So that we might
In Unison: …Be picked. We were told that we are flowers that should bloom a certain color, so that we might be picked.
Females: But why must we die for someone else’s sorry?
Males: But why must we be cut to sprout another’s smile?
In Unison: But why must we grow to bloom a certain color if we cannot die as ourselves?
Female Facing Male: I’ve lain I love you at your feet one too many times…
Female Facing Female: My I love you is not a bouquet to lay in the dirt!
Male Facing Male: My I love you is not a spider to be smashed in fear!
Female Facing Female: I’ve lain I love you at your feet one too many times…
Male Facing Female: My I love you is not a bouquet to leave unwatered.
Female Facing Male: My I love you is not a roach scurrying in the shadows!
In Unison: My I love you does not belong at your feet, but here it is again…
Female Facing Male: I expect more of you
because I see you as
a reason to believe
that love can transform
boys into men
who do not run
from hard conversations
Female Facing Female: My expectations
are not laws to imprison u
for living. U commit no crime
against me. Though,
sometimes your silence
is an ache in my stomach.
U are not my child. I cannot
carry you. Look how u shine.
I am no god to raise the sun,
though I grow from the light…
In Unison: We grow from the light.
Male Facing Male: Talk to me.
It’s the silence that
fathers this Distance.
You are not my father.
Talk to me.
Your constant silence
fathers this Doubt.
Female Facing Female: I need you to talk to me.
Your silence fathers this Distance.
What are we now?
Talk to me.
Your constant silence
fathers this Doubt.
And I am with child…
Female Facing Male: You told me
that you were my first
underneath the white light
of a blue door
on a dark night
with poems between us
knowing I had no trophy
to give you.
Male Facing Female: With years between us,
you allowed the silence
to stand. While I boasted,
certain of my place
on the empty stage
of your auditorium.
Male Facing Male: What didn’t you say
the night I caught you
considering me, smiling,
hand on cheek?
Female Facing Famale: What didn’t you say the night you clung to me,
saving your tears
to pour in my glass?
In Unison (louder): What didn’t you say the night you clung to me,
saving your tears
to pour in my glass?
Females and Male Facing Male: The same glass
we shattered on a whim,
with poems between us…
Alternate Females and Alternate Male: I did not duck
when your tears
splattered like acid
along my cheek.
Male Facing Female (with revelation): This is not the scar of friendship–
Male Facing Male (with revelation): This is not the scar of friendship–
Female Facing Female (with uncertainty): This is not the scar of friendship…
In Unison (with conviction): These are not the scars of friendship!
(Scene description and roles added to original post on February 23, 2019)
#brainstorming, #relationships, #scenes, #spoken-words, #water
On the 40 minute drive to teach freshman and sophomore English, I see glimpses as I head down I-40: a darkened stage with subtle light, brown skin shrouded in various, yet harmonic, hues of blue. “In 5 miles, take Exit 206,” says Girl, my Google Maps App. (I know my way to work by now, so I just navigate for the real-time traffic updates and alternate routes.) The signal light sounds off its blinky clicks, and I see another glimpse: a gun on a nightstand, two Black men in a careful rage– then a snippet of a conversation. “Talk to me, it’s your silence that fathers this distance…” and then Girl chimes in, “In 0.9 miles, keep right to stay on Exit 206.” Before you know it, I’ve finished teaching all my classes and I’m back on the road for another 40 minutes.
I see glimpses, but it’s still unformed. “Water” has a lot to live up to. I’m hoping it will become a culmination of all the late nights and invested time. This “Water”, of which I receive fleeting glimpses, warms me like the grey-eyed grin of my grandfather. Specifically, the ‘just for me’ grin that greeted me whenever I returned home from college.
Because you spare a little time to visit whenever you can, gratitude warms me just like PaPa’s grin before Dementia dimmed it a bit. (He still reserved a smile just-for-me, even with the declining nature of the disease.) Nevertheless, thank you for reading any tiny droplet of “Rahk’s Water”. Together, we can turn these droplets into a bay. 💙
Rahk's Water 