January 2005

The Mother and the Phantom

She sat down, looked around
As if in fear.
The Phantom, she began.
You know the story of the Phantom?
Of the Phantom, the child and the mother?

I knew the story.
The Phantom stole the child, right?
Yes, and the mother went in search.
With the power of her love
For the little one,
She won him back.
And the sad part, I added,
Is in the end.
She nodded,
The Phantom loved the child,
And wanders the streets
In search of him,
Even today, they say.

The stench of death washed up
In a senseless wind.
We sat silent.

You know,
The waves stole my child.

I knew.
The Phantom, I thought.

I was holding him,
Close to my heart,
Tight.
But the waves tore him away.
I prayed, I cried, I searched.
But I never saw him again.
Unless that rotting skin and flesh...

Tears welled up in her eyes:
You know,
The Phantom, it's me!
The Phantom who loved the child.
My child, be happy --
Be happy with your mother!
You are ah! merry --
Ah! merry in that laughter.
Let me be accursed --
Be accursed, left to wander,
Alone, all my life --
All my life, torn asunder!