Mother to Son

I was just a girl when I had you, moon’s blood
new as ripe roses as I was swept up in oceans of
rich wine and black velvet by my wolf moon man,
how could I not be taken by your father’s claret
rich seductions, smooth words, sun river touch? I
was haunted by irises like red poppy, a doll in a
golden cage meant for canaries, not schoolgirls,
I knew nothing of the ways of the heart, nothing
about the price I would pay to give up my lily to
the King of Hell, it was a quiet kiss, a silent
exchange of freedom for bondage, my wings are his –
I cannot fly unless he removes my tether, and so
you were conceived, the scapegoat of my curiosity
perhaps that is why Samael calls you Azazel, he
stole you from my breast, for how could a child
hold eternity and understand conception, fruits
that her consequences bore, you grew up motherless
because I was still not a woman, just plaything
to the Prince of Hell, but I came into my strength
and in time I would demand my claim on my son,
so at eighteen I saw you, six and scrappy kneed –
your father’s hair, your mother’s eyes, a playroom
with toys of war, baseball in the backyard with dad,
the Devil always wanted to play house but you were
innocent of your father’s sins, I called you Ash
after the death of embers, pale skin like snow,
lips red as berries, you clung to my legs, I spun
you in circles, moon to my sun, and your father
smiled, then took you away again for six years,
raised by the archdemons and angels, you grew
skilled in shape-shifting and your beloved guitar,
tall as your dad but baby-faced, eager as a child,
Michael your foster-father, stern, weapons-master,
Samael your blood-father, wily, let you run wild.
Like me you have the blood of the fallen and pure,
and now at twelve you beg me for bedtime stories,
a doll shaped like me to comfort your night terrors,
you rest in a nest in my heart and play with dogs,
chase after human children your age, you crave fun,
dye your hair Manic Panic pixie dream boy colors,
think pranking your mother is a riot, hate being
alone, because the shadow your father casts is long
and you are all kindness to his severity, you have
my disposition but his wicked humor, gentle yet
crazed with sugar high energy, I can’t imagine that
Samael feeds you a balanced diet, and of course
Michael will feed you only organic Yuppie crap,
so you split your time between Heaven and Hell,
between Earth and the Otherworlds, and when your
father is cruel you come to me and cry, nestle
close to my arms as I rock you to sleep, Ash,
you are too sweet, too breakable, and the world
will do it’s best to break you, but I say, be
strong, be brave, go out off cliffs as a fool,
dive headfirst into your passions and fly, take
your goats eyes and nubs of horns and be Pan,
take your blue irises and silky raven hair and
seek wisdom, but above all, play, play, run wild
be free in your cares and blessed with love, I
will give you all I have son, for I love you.