A Mother's Lament: A Performance Poetry Script
CHARACTERS
Narrator- A woman who is grieving the loss of her child.
Chorus- A group of voices representing the community, the mother's inner turmoil, and the
divine.
SETTING
A simple stage with minimal props. A single chair or stool can represent the mother's grief.
MUSIC
A haunting, mournful melody can be used throughout the performance.
Scene 1: The Loss
(Narrator enters, her voice low and trembling)
I placed her into the hands of wicked men,
behind closed doors, they give birth to death—
for a few coins, her name was stricken;
for an ounce of silver, they blot out her name.
(Chorus joins in, echoing the narrator's words with a sense of despair)
Deceitful women pour out words like honey;
like a serpent, her mouth drips with poison—
both rich and poor drink from her cup,
she shows no favoritism.
(Narrator's voice rises in anger, her words becoming more forceful)
Monsters! Daughters are led by the hand as a blind sacrifice,
to a heinous god, they are laid out as an offering;
in the cover of darkness, their children are taken,
before the dawn, their light is remembered no more.
(Chorus fades, leaving the narrator alone with her grief)
Scene 2: The Denial
(Narrator sits, her head bowed, her voice filled with pain)
My friends demand laughter,
my mother asks for a smile,
can they not hear?
can they not see?
(Narrator's voice breaks, her body convulses with unspoken sobs)
Within my heart, deathly silence pounds,
behind the teeth is caged a scream,
it is ready to burst like the wails of a woman in labor—
like a mother whose child is stillborn.
(Chorus enters again, this time with a harsh, accusatory tone)
“Weeds!” the wicked cry out as the sickle slashes the lilies;
tender violets are trampled and the garden destroyed,
so that no fruit blossoms,
no flower takes root.
(Narrator stands, her voice filled with a desperate hope)
I spend my days in masked despair,
in plain sight, I veil empty arms;
shielding my ears from the haunting silence
as vacant cries kick and fret within me.
(Narrator's voice grows weaker, her hope fading)
As frightened deer scatter, my youth quickly fades;
As the morning delivers the moon, my days give birth to years—
until I can no longer discern:
are these my cries, Lord, or yours?
Scene 3: The Plea
(Narrator kneels, her voice filled with a desperate plea)
Who will kneel alongside me in the garden,
or climb upon my shoulders and fill my basket?
Who will lead me by the hand when I am gray,
or lay flowers at my grave?
(Narrator's voice rises in a crescendo of anger and despair)
A thousand tithes cannot repay my debt,
ten thousand offerings cannot restore a single breath;
don’t turn your eye from my presence, Oh Lord,
don’t close your ear to my cry.
(Chorus enters, their voices echoing the narrator's pain)
The godless promise shelter to the abandoned,
they set a snare for those seeking refuge—
the frightened who have no one to take their hand
and lead them to your courts.
(Narrator stands tall, her voice filled with righteous anger)
Oh Righteous Judge, give the wicked wrath to drink,
may blood blanket the graves of the unrighteous!
May those who say,“There is no God” shudder at the
thunder of your voice,
and tremble at the words of your mouth.
(Narrator's voice softens, her plea turning into a prayer)
Your decrees are just and your law is perfect.
Cleanse me, Oh Lord, from my sin—
do not blot my name from your book,
do not strike my name with your pen.
(Narrator raises her hands in supplication, her voice filled with faith)
You, Oh Lord, are my deliverer;
You, Oh God, are my strength.
With lifted hands, I will praise you to the congregation.
I will speak of your mercy, my God, my Savior.
(Narrator exits, leaving the chorus to echo her final words)
End
A Mother’s Lament by Shadia Hrichi
I placed her into the hands of wicked men,
behind closed doors, they give birth to death—
for a few coins, her name was stricken;
for an ounce of silver, they blot out her name.
Deceitful women pour out words like honey;
like a serpent, her mouth drips with poison—
both rich and poor drink from her cup,
she shows no favoritism.
Monsters! Daughters are led by the hand as a blind sacrifice,
to a heinous god, they are laid out as an offering;
in the cover of darkness, their children are taken,
before the dawn, their light is remembered no more.
My friends demand laughter,
my mother asks for a smile,
can they not hear?
can they not see?
Within my heart, deathly silence pounds,
behind the teeth is caged a scream,
it is ready to burst like the wails of a woman in labor—
like a mother whose child is stillborn.
“Weeds!” the wicked cry out as the sickle slashes the lilies;
tender violets are trampled and the garden destroyed,
so that no fruit blossoms,
no flower takes root.
I spend my days in masked despair,
in plain sight, I veil empty arms;
shielding my ears from the haunting silence
as vacant cries kick and fret within me.
As frightened deer scatter, my youth quickly fades;
As the morning delivers the moon, my days give birth to years—
until I can no longer discern:
are these my cries, Lord, or yours?
Who will kneel alongside me in the garden,
or climb upon my shoulders and fill my basket?
Who will lead me by the hand when I am gray,
or lay flowers at my grave?
A thousand tithes cannot repay my debt,
ten thousand offerings cannot restore a single breath;
don’t turn your eye from my presence, Oh Lord,
don’t close your ear to my cry.
The godless promise shelter to the abandoned,
they set a snare for those seeking refuge—
the frightened who have no one to take their hand
and lead them to your courts.
Oh Righteous Judge, give the wicked wrath to drink,
may blood blanket the graves of the unrighteous!
May those who say,“There is no God” shudder at the thunder of your voice,
and tremble at the words of your mouth.
Your decrees are just and your law is perfect.
Cleanse me, Oh Lord, from my sin—
do not blot my name from your book,
do not strike my name with your pen.
You, Oh Lord, are my deliverer;
You, Oh God, are my strength.
With lifted hands, I will praise you to the congregation.
I will speak of your mercy, my God, my Savior.
