Netted from the 'danger' of life and men,
Hands bound by love's cords, my mouth stoppered mute,
I fled the safe and sheltered, shaded glen.
My mother wrecked hell to see her child 'freed'.
I think she'd have throttled me if she knew
I betrayed her motherhood with pomegranate seeds.

Like red comets in Hades' shaking hand.
He clutched those seeds like his life's last frayed strand
I snatched the bowl; I gorged the lovely fruit
I snapped youth's string and spun a finer thread:
Lady of Hades, dear King of the Dead
His last, lone acorn in parched, barren land.

If only she saw me smiling serene -
Not withering within a captive queen.