Two mothers have a conversation with War personified... I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, "Mother, what was war?" ~Eve Merriam (Two mothers stand center as lights rise on the bare stage.) Open the play [+/-] M1: Come now, Bara’ah! Time for school! M2: Hedasaa! Where are your books? M1: Bara’ah, hurry! You will be late for school! M2: Hedasaa, hurry! I have your lunch! Let’s go! M1: Bara’ah! M2: Hedasaa! (The women now cross left and right and then cross downstage edge calling out over the audience.) M2: Did you hear your mother? M1: I said for you to come now! (A slow and sad violin solo now begins to play. The women look toward one another but do not acknowledge the other as broken concrete and debris begins to slowly descend around them from above. The women again call out over the audience.) M1: I said come on, slow poke! M2: You better get a move on! I’m giving you ten seconds, young lady! M1: It is time for schoo...
(The Weaver's Song)