A Bunch of Poems from "The Serpent's Teeth" by Daniel Keene

I really liked the poetry in this play. I think I am writing this more for me, rather than anyone else. :-)

These are all lines from grieving characters.

---

(Sam)
My brother is swallowed in his death
His baffled cry still echoing
Footprints still hardening in his blood
The days at least are merciful
I lose what's already lost
But at night, the darkness blazes
with the music of his voice;
Our games have never ended
The rubber ball we bounced
Pounds inside my chest
Our game of hide and seek
Ends only when I wake
Still searching for his hiding place."

(Catherine)
"They'll carve his name in stone,
Why not here in my breast?
Why not here in the palm of my hand?
I'll wear his absence on my face,
why not his name?
There is a flame that burns
for dead soldiers;
What feeds the flame of remembrance?
The living are the fuel that memory burns.
We burn more slowly than the dead.
Our crematoria are the beds we sleep in,
the streets we walk,
the rooms where we wait
for the son who is not returning.
We leave a trail of ashes
That are slowly scattered by the wind."

(Helen)
We lived in our own country
And knew each other's seasons
His body was naked as air,
His hands a harbour and a sea.
Our bed was a wild garden
Where my eyes were mirrored in his.
We drank from each other's bodies
and slept in each other's silence.
How should I remember him?
Who should I tell that I loved him?

(Tom)
What's left of my son?
What's in that box, draped in a flag?
Have they managed to stitch anything together?
Does it even resemble a body?
Does it matter?
I remember holding his hand
That was in another life
But it was my life
My son in my arms is something I've felt
My son's voice is something I've heard
I've seen his shoulders broaden
His voice darken with manhood
I don't want to see my son again.
I want him in my arms,
dead or living,
the bright grave joy of his youth,
his going away and his coming home again
I want my son.

(Robert)
I hear the voice of son calling
He looks homewards to me
where I burn
in the suspended nightmare of his loss,
not yet able to scream, nor weep, nor curse.
My son calls me
and I answer him.
Come home to me now
Bring your lost life
to grief's foundry.
We'll forge a meaning from it;
the hammer of my tears
on the anvil of your blood.
It is in the labour that matters,
the shaping out of emptiness
the necessary presence of your death.

(Catherine)
Now we will learn our grief, waiting
for those not coming home
to come home nonetheless.
We'll make new lives
and learn to live with emptiness.

A Breathtaking Night: A Review of "The Serpent's Teeth"

Last Wednesday, I went with the Falster family to watch Daniel Keene's The Serpent's Teeth. Prior to this, I had not seen a production of The Sydney Theatre Company, so I was quite excited. Given that it was at the Opera House playhouse, I felt I was in for a double treat.

True to form, I was amazed. The Serpent's Teeth is actually two one-act plays. The first is called Civilians, a story of Palestinians trapped by the walls that divide their country. In another way, it can reflect as well the walls we erect around ourselves and the way in which we break them down sometimes in order to communicate with others around us. I loved the set here (just a brick wall spanning the entire length of the stage), as there were subtle parts of it which reflect a deeper despair amongst people trapped by overpowering presence of a wall represting the corrupt power of the same people who are supposed to help and protect them.

Because this is set in a country that is so different from my own, it seemed so much easier to accept what was on stage and every little small detail could be easily taken in. Despite its depressing nature, I loved it.

Sadly, I did not find the second one-act play as engaging. It was called Soldiers and revolved around the effect of the death of Aussie soldiers in Iraq. The concept was quite basic and familiar, and perhaps that is what made it less interesting.

However, what wowed me was the way in which the thoughts of the characters were written. It is basically a combination of prose and poetry, and Daniel Keene has such a gift in verbalising the grief, anger and bewilderment that loss can bring.

That second play was so well-written that I had to get a copy of the scripts. Well worth the $15, in my honest opinion.

Here are some lines for your scrutiny.

(from a grieving mother)
"They'll carve his name in stone,
Why not here in my breast?
Why not here in the palm of my hand?
I'll wear his absence on my face,
why not his name?"

(more to follow)