Prologue – The Silence Before the Storm
The world is silent. The sky is grey, as if it has forgotten how to weep. In a small village, hidden between hills and time, an old church prepares for the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows. The bells are still. But within the walls, something stirs—a story that refuses to be forgotten.
Scene I – The Woman in Black
She enters. A woman cloaked in black, her face veiled. No one knows her name. But all feel it: she carries something. Something heavy. Something sacred.
She walks to the altar, kneels. And then she speaks—not loudly, not softly, but like an echo from another world:
“I stood there. Beneath the cross.
I saw him. My son.
Not as king. Not as God.
But as man.
And I—as mother.”
Scene II – The Choir of Shadows
From the dark corners of the church, figures emerge—the choir. They are not people, not angels. They are memories. Voices of the past.
They sing the Stabat Mater, not in notes, but in tears. Each tone a wound. Each syllable a prayer.
“Stabat mater dolorosa,
Juxta crucem lacrimosa,
Dum pendebat Filius…”
The church trembles. The walls weep. The woman is silent.
Scene III – The Dialogue with God
A beam of light falls through the window. The woman rises. She speaks—not to the choir, not to the congregation, but directly to God:
“You gave him to me.
And you took him from me.
But I do not ask why.
I ask: What now?”
A child steps forward. A girl, barely ten years old. She offers the woman a rose—blood red, like the robe of the crucified. The woman takes it. And smiles.
Scene IV – The Transformation
The music shifts. From lament to hope. From sorrow to light. The choir no longer sings of suffering, but of redemption.
The woman removes her veil. Her face is marked—by years, by tears, by love. And yet: it shines.
“I am not only the mother of sorrow.
I am the mother of hope.
For where blood flowed, life grows.
And where death was, resurrection begins.”
Epilogue – The Bells Ring
The bells begin to toll. The congregation rises. The woman leaves the church—not alone, but accompanied by light, sound, and memory.
And as she walks, her song remains. In the walls. In the hearts. In time.
Remtalina – between past and future, between adventure and mystery.
