The Story of the Mother

«Although my child has died,» the mother said
«That doesn’t make him permanently dead
I must petition Death for his return»
She made her way into the lands below
There was a rosebush there, where things don’t grow
It said, «You want your child? Give me your blood»
And on a thorn
Her flesh was torn
That’s how rosebushes
Grow down there
So then she met this great big centipede
Who wanted something from her, it decreed
«You want to hold your child? Give me your arms»
In lands beneath
They grow strange teeth
To tear your flesh
More painfully
But on she staggered and stumbled, for her baby’s sake
And found herself beside a talking lake
«You want to see your child? Give me your eyes»
Which turned to pearls
And sank in swirls
Into liquid oblivion
In the form of a spider
Death hung there beside her
And kissed her
And made her his wife