Sweet daughter, victim of a selfish God
who bestows knots of iron hunger
in the innocent belly of a child.
This is not the work of green wooded satyrs
This is not the work of green wooded satyrs
who danced the dance of plenty;
days when the swaddling babes lay draped
in vines between the druidic roots.
This is the work of the God
of iron fear and thorns of steel.
Give her to the Mother of Christ
so that she shall suffer no more.
Take her God of pity, piety, and plenty.
Let her rise. Let the cherubim be her companions;
fill her swollen little belly with cake and cream.
And so it was.
And now she has grown fast this woman-girl.
Let her hold the thirteen keys
while the Mother journeys on behalf of the Lord.
She shall stand in Peter’s stead
and hold the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven.
The daughter of Mary disobeyed
and the Cock crowed thrice.
Beyond the thirteenth door she crept
and glimpsed upon the power of the Trinity.
And she feared.
She was spared the mark of Cain, and, instead,
was branded in gold on her tiny finger.
Yet three times did she deny her transgression.
And so she was cast out.
Thrown into the wilderness,
stripped of her clothes,
bereft of speech,
cut off from the things of man.
Living in the hollow of an ancient tree,
she dined on roots and wild berries,
her only glory the golden cloak of her own hair.
And there she stayed.
But she was redeemed by a man
who freed her with an iron will and an iron sword.
He loved her and he married her and he sired her a son.
The Mother returned and demanded:
“Repent, or I shall have this son of yours.”
But she remembered the days of cake and cream,
and she denied her transgressions.
Her son was taken up into Heaven
just as she had been.
“Ogress”, the people whispered, but her child was
safe and her man was her own, and again he sired her a son.
The Mother returned and demanded:
“Repent, or I shall have your second son.”
But she remembered the play of the Cherubim
and denied her transgressions.
Her second son was taken up into Heaven
just as she had been.
“Ogress”, the people said to each other,
but her sons were safe in Heaven’s embrace,
just as she had been as a child. And her man was her own
and he now sired her a daughter.
For the third time the Mother demanded:
"Repent, or I shall have your daughter as well.”
And the vision of the thirteenth room
struck her eyes, the fear and the glory
of the Trinity consumed her.
But still she denied her transgressions,
and her daughter was carried into
the Kingdom of Heaven by the Mother of Christ.
“Ogress,” the people shouted, “eater of children.”
And they drove the stake deep into the ground,
and scattered the base with dry kindling,
and all the while the good mother smiled
for her children were safe in the bosom
of the Mother of God.
As the smoke choked her throat and tears filled her eyes,
she thought: “Now I shall repent, and we shall all be together.”
And she repented: “Yes, Mary, I did it.”
The clouds gathered and the rain fell; the fire died.
And Mary with her crown of stars descended
with the three babes in her arms, cruel mother
who casts her children from the Glory of God.
And she despaired.
