Without you, everyday is sorrow
A single drop of tear
I yearn to be healed, removed from this pain
Truth taunts me
I recall those memories, the ones with me and you
Not forgotten, but vivid
Given happiness, thrown away
Forgive me for the path I chose
Often I pretend that you’re still here with me
Refusing to come to my senses
Yet a sense of reality never fades
Over again I repeat
Us, is not a word for me or for you
Two strangers walking in the world,
on opposite sides of the Earth
Met one day and ever since,
Been good friends…
My dear friend, today,
I want to say to you how much you mean to me.
I want to say that without you,
I would be lost
lost
lost…
My dear friend, today,
I want to say thank you… what you have done,
listening to my complaints and problems
even though they bore you…
still
You listen.
thank you
thank you
thank you…
My dear friend, today,
I want to say I love you, because you have always cared.
Whether I was happy, sad, lonely, hurt or just being me,
You came and we shared the moments together...
I love you
I love you
I love you…
When you’re around me, I feel like the sun
Shining so brightly,
When you’re smiling, I feel warmth-
it reminds me of our friendship
I’m just SO glad I met you
Sitting gloriously on the wall,
The fan recounts its family’s bloodline.
Esteemed doctors tending to the Emperor,
Arranged marriages of nobility,
Bearing heirs to secure its longevity.
Alas, a daughter is born,
This wicked child,
From the Devil,
Bringing an end to their royal name.
It is the beginning of the end.
A line of daughters
Bankrupts the wealth
In paying for their dowry.
The fan is a reminder
A windowless room
Dim lighting
Machines in rows
Humming buzz
The women sew.
Materials askew
In frenzy
Threads spin
Scissors manoeuvre
Shapes of fans
Of every colour.
Officer walks
Through straight aisles
Heads bent down
Eyes averted.
Bang!
Everyone looks up
A woman falls
She was sleeping.
A month’s wage
Taken from her
The single mother
Feeding her kids
And her mother.
At her limit
In fury
She protests,
Tears streaming down.
The officer walks
Ignoring her;
The women stand.
A workers’ strike…
Protest
Higher wages
Better working conditions
Less working hours…
And reinstall wages.
A phoenix to bring longevity,
The swan to bless us with luck,
A lotus flower to symbolise harmony,
The women work their magic.
As these symbols appear on the silken cloth
They work with speed and precision.
The men are spellbound
By the skill and beauty of the women
As they embroider the winning fan.
Disgraced by her incompetence,
Beauty she is, but skill she lacks.
She hears the whispers behind her,
Of why the mayor’s daughter is absent form the stage.
She imagines her father’s shame,
Because she is unable to join the game.
The crowds’ murmur starts to buzz
As the women reveal their silken glory.
The sun comes out
And shines on the woven collection.
How beautiful they look!
Glimmering in the sunshine.
Everyone is quiet, waiting for the announcement
Who will be crowned this year’s embroider?
Overwhelmed by emotion,
She turns back through the crowd, with new determination arising within her.
She must be the winner in the forthcoming year!
You must follow your husband,
For richer or poorer...
A mother’s promise must be kept.
Silently the peasant woman crept through the darkness,
A darkness which embodied her existence.
A woman’s duty must be carried out,
Living under the rule of her husband,
She toils the fields,
She makes every meal,
She bears his sons.
Another day, another meal.
Black smoke engulfs the humble surroundings.
Chocking and spluttering,
She absent-mindedly fans the coal.
Tears mix with her coal-blackened face
As she weeps of her captivity.
She carries the inherited woven fan of her grandmother
A treasure from her mother.
Reminding her that a mother’s promise must be kept.
Women must uphold the family’s pride
However, she lives like a bird in a cage,
Longing to fly back home to her mother’s nest.
Knowing that she must forget this intangible dream,
She washes the clothes.
She tidies the hut.
She awaits her husband’s return.
Make way! Make way!
A lady is coming.
Prepare for her arrival,
Open the doors!
Make her welcome!
A crowd gathers for the jamboree
Her carriage is coming, see!
The stallions halt at the gate
The lady is stepping down. Please wait!
Dressed in the finest lace,
A jewelled fan hides her face.
The crowd is silenced by her presence,
As she moves into the residence.
The glimmering fan is slowly lowered,
In which the crowd now glowered.
Behind that fan was a face that spelt ‘traitor’
Divulged an evil grin and said, ‘I am the victor’.
This traitor has cheated and bribed,
But soon fled so she was never tried.
She mocks the anger on their faces
As she departs once more without leaving any traces.
