Lights up suddenly on Hakima, dressed in torn white rags and spattered with crimson. Her arms are spread at her sides, held carefully so as not to touch her own body. She is shaking and dissociated. After a painful, long pause, she speaks.
HAKIMA; Too long ago I was a swaddling babe
Rememb’ring now I think it was a dream
For, waking, all the softness of my heart
Is scattered far from breast, and memory.
(pause, examining her bloody garment)
What blood is this?!–My own? I cannot see
I cannot think or feel–and yet I know
I’ve won a battle here in frenzied sleep
What bloody flowers bloomed from seeds they sowed.
Oh mother!–Did I never know your love?
Did you cling and sing your love in song?
The lullaby you sang so sweet and raw
With lilting calm you ushered me adrift
In long-forgotten safety thence I’ve fled
Which comforts since I’ve not been blessed to see…
Now this, the blood, beloved mother is.
Now justice–vengeance!–sings its song to me.
And deep vibrating bells announce an end
To wealth, corrupt control and tyranny.
Across this land the selfsame chorus rings
A thousand voices raised in harmony!
And In my mind resounds a melody
That every freedom fighter soon will hear
They’ll be compelled to raise their fists with me.
Their flags and battle cries will banish fear!
Yes, soon this crumbling land will fall again
Into the People’s hands where it belongs!
And for our enemies a final end
For years we’ll sing our victory in songs!