Shakespeare's Fallen Women

Within a crowded room,

The canvas receives the last of a painter’s touch.

Eyes dart across the space,

They critique, they watch and they judge

 

Oil paint grazes the edge of a woman’s cheek

The layers build

And build

Until they are deemed complete

 

It is loud where you are?

Is it silent?

Is the air buzzing with soft whispers…

 or bursts of laughter?

 

Well, wherever you are, the artist is present,

Whether in spirit or body she is there.

Watching and listening as they stare unaware

She shows you what painting means to her.

 

To paint is to seek control,

To paint is to create, to annihilate, to resurrect.

To paint is to be silent; the work will speak for itself,

Until it can’t.
 

The artist invites you to listen.

There is comfort in silence to be sure.

You can hear so clearly in the silence

And from this silence emerges the voices of fallen women.

 

What does it mean to fall?

A fallen man is a noble one; 

He died in battle.

He gave his life.

 

But a fallen woman

Is dishonorable, is sinful, is depraved

She has fallen from grace.

She has failed.

 

Are you paying attention?

Are you listening?

Every whisper is an act of rebellion

Every sentence and phrase, every scream and proclamation.

 

Her voice is an act of rebellion.

She whispers and shakes.

She screams and she breaks.

But she speaks her mind damning the consequences. 

Are you even listening?

Are you even listening?

Time has failed us,

Stories have failed us.

 

At some point,

You have to stop talking and start screaming

The harsh truths are written in paint.

The lies too…

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