Theatre Is Not Dead: She Moved!
Out of the limelight
Out of the mainstream
Out of the reach of deep-bellied fiends
That have all but made her bleed with grief
And robbed her of peace
She fled into the streets
Where spirits of Greece and Afuraka meet
And bow down as they greet
And embrace with searing passionate heat
She fled to reminisce about the simple days old
Before death by economy and polity
Before defeat by oppression and slavery
And on what should have been
The night of her final fading cry
We hear an enchanting melody rise
In a space where people feel alive
Allowed to speak aloud
And breathe a life
And be at large
A space where she exists
Without the fear of sabotage
It is here that spirits frolic
And teach the kids of relics past
It is here that warring heads
Put down their fists and raise a glass
It is here that young and old alike
Indulge in glorious play
It is here that every faith and creed
Congregates to pray
How could theatre breathe
If she could not hold space her way?
Her former captors lose their minds
And mourn the wretched shame…
“Theatre is dead.
Oh Theatre is dead!
She’s fallen far from grace,
With nothing left to take her place.
We will surely make her pay.
We’ll make her rue the day she fled
And found new lands to stay.
We’ll hunt her down,
Mark our words:
For-ever and a day”
The promise of sheep in wolf skin
An army of cowardly citizens
Holding on to dead ideals
With crumbling hands
That have started to peel
Their eyes betray them too
They cannot see their incumbent fate
That theatre is not dead
She has finally moved to take her place!