All the World’s a Stage

All the world’s a stage

She cannot believe they still behave
like lunatics and savages
are there no mothers   sisters   daughters
does revenge have to be played to the end

There is no sound
her tongue has been torn from its roots –

perhaps her baby’s head
has not been dashed against the door post
her son not been run through
her mother raped   her husband decapitated


His cry is elephantine  
he keeps his mask to the end –
eyes downcast as if powerless

feels things should not be so   but
the play will run till the last curtain –

in the world there is laughter   joy
amusement   tragedy – as before

Love was not what it seemed
gentleness is misunderstood –
the play continues
  

Sarianne Durie