CHARACTER1:

I still dream of ROSES with eyes wide awake. They remind me of healing breaths I have to make.

CHARACTER2:

I still dream of ROSES in a dried up land. They remind me of safe embraces I can still make happen.

CHARACTER 3:

I still dream of ROSES beneath my whispered fears. They remind me of my own pure heart, my own fragrant soul.

ALL:

This body is my body.

It is my own sacred space.

This life is my life.

Respect this life...

CHARACTER1:

... please ... but they take me in their cruel arms. I try to run, I get caught, they take me with their cruel hands. I try to escape, I get caught, they take me... they take turns and take me...

CHARACTER2:

I plead for my life, I cry for help. Not my child, not my child, please... as they set him ablaze. No, not my child, please...

CHARACTER 3:

He hits me with fists closed, I cringe with pain. He kicks my bowed head, I collapse with pain. So please, stop please...he enters me as I bleed... stop please...

ALL:

I sketch the meaning of my WOMANhood.

I paint the worth of this body, this WOMAN.

CHARACTER1:

I still dream of roses amidst the stench of these demons of war. They pump their anger into my screaming body as I vomit out questions....

CHARACTER2:

I still dream of roses above the pleading voices of my child, sister, mother, aunt. Their hands hold me back and crumple my breasts, My body throbs with questions.

CHARACTER 3:

I still dream of roses beneath the rage of his touch. "Till death do us part." With whose death shall we at last part?

CHARACTER1:

They battle against my people and stamp shame on my nakedness.

CHARACTER2:

They rage against my race and dishonor my body with their dirt.

CHARACTER 3:

He battles against himself and wounds me with his coward hands.

ALL:

This body is my body.

It is my own sacred space.

This life is my life.

Respect this life...

CHARACTER1:

The gunshots fade, their bodies leave my naked body. But they had given me death with each stab of shame. I cover myself with shame as they depart.

CHARACTER2:

The shouts have becdme silences, they leave my tortured soul. I face death bathed in a pool of my own tainted blood. I cringe my dirtied body as they depart.

CHARACTER 3:

His insults turn voiceless as I step out of our prison home. I carry my dying soul to welcome a rising moon. I hide my bleeding wounds as I depart.

CHARACTER1:

But why should I?

CHARACTER 2

Why should I?

CHARACTER 3:

Why must I?

CHARACTER1:

I dream of then of roses sharp as knives, tearing at demon flesh. Stab after piercing stab. I give them back the pain they had forced on me. I dream of roses exploding like gunshots, let them die a death as painful as my own.

CHARACTER2:

In the silence, I dream of roses red as fire, petal flames that lick at their mocking faces. I dream of watching them burn slowly, helplessly in flames fueled by my blood. I shall grant them hell, the same hell they have left me to live.

CHARACTER 3:

I dream of roses tough as tree branches, laden with thorns. Blow after swinging blow, I watch him drop to his knees in pain. I dream of hearing him plead for his own mercy, as I bring down my rose paddle to strike at his spineless back.

CHARACTER1:

And then I feel nothing.

CHARACTER2:

And then I feel nothing.

CHARACTER 3:

And then I feel nothing.

ALL:

I sketch the meaning of my WOMANhood.

I paint the worth of this body, this WOMAN.

CHARACTER1:

I take my cowering body into my own embrace, and hear my sobs turn into wails. I scream out my grief from the depths of my injured self.

CHARACTER2:

My numb body stirs in the warmth of my own embrace, and my silent tears turn into rivers of grief. They pour like rain on my heart's grave.

CHARACTER 3:

I nurse my wounds with my own gentle hands, and feel my trembling turn into weeping. I mourn the death of my wounded self.

CHARACTER1:

I face my death so I may take hold of life.

CHARACTER2:

I embrace my death so I may reclaim my life.

CHARACTER 3:

I mourn my death so I may celebrate life.

CHARACTER1:

My soul breathes in colours uncovering my body from the darkness of my shame. And I rise from death, with beauty as pure as the naked rose.

CHARACTER2:

I take my claim of beautiful roses.

CHARACTER 3:

My spirit rises from these ashes of rage. And each breath cleanses me with fragrant showers of untouched petals.

CHARACTER1:

I take my claim of fragrant roses.

CHARACTER 2:

My heart beats back life to my dying self. I open my eyes to my own worth weaving blankets of roses for my healing soul.

CHARACTER 3:

I take my claim of healing roses.

ALL:

This body is my body.

It is my own sacred space.

This life is my life.

Respect this life!