To Her Mourning Daughter

To Her Mourning Daughter

My keening daughter, stare not too long

at the darkness of the grave.

Avert your eyes in time

and do not lose yourself in kindred’s tears

your veil too thin, your skin too sear for this

and you, too young in years

to bear such bitter bliss:

you, who have no need to be so brave.

Rather, be a bone as hollow as a birds, and as light,

see in the stars’ sweet drift the one who knew you

and let these currents of a dark and sadder night

flow through you, through you.

Do not assume the tint of faded leaves

do not allow the kindred here to cast you

as the one who ever grieves.

But rather, channel the water

where you wish it to follow.

Carry it with you, willow daughter

give voice to the pain

keen for the silence

be a flowing river

meander full and hollow

be both carrier and giver,

and life will surely flow

into your soul once again.

And only shed your mourning weeds

and casually toss your hair

when you are once more safely in my arms.

My daughter, I fear I abandoned you there

to a life of mourning and dark armbands

but life has other charms

and you have other needs.

Freely rewritten from a fragment of a 16th-century Hindi poem.

Artwork reworked by DutchPuh from an original painting by William Adolphe Bouguereau