Old Man Under the Mountain, Reprised
Mother, how may I keep Death away
when on our door he knocks?
Son, he may only approach and harvest
souls where death has existed before.
Mother, how can this be, when even so much
as a swatted fly invites Death to visit?
Son, dying is no longer possible
when Death’s effects can be reversed.
Mother, then how can this be, when everyone
knows Death is final?
Son, Old Man Under the Mountain
is shielded from Death beneath his golden dome.
Then, dear Mother, I will find the Old Man,
I will bring you his shield, and then we will never part.
The Old Man, he was difficult to find,
yet find him I finally did. The trickster,
he trapped me and I took his place,
far beneath stone, out of sight
of his golden dome in the sky.
At long last I was released, a successor
then took my place. I ascended stone steps
to the earth and sky once more;
I captured the sun and rain for my shield
and returned to my home once again.
Dear Mother, I have returned! I joyously
proclaimed near our home,
but Death, that trickster, had found her.
Old Man was Death, gone to see her
the moment I freed him, the devil.
He waited for me, still he sat in our door,
and Mother, dear Mother, was no more.
I love the way you have weaved your story told through poetry. It feels very much like a parable until the end which was very chilling. It reminded me of the “Monkey’s Paw” or something from Poe
This ending —
“He waited for me, still he sat in our door,/and Mother, dear Mother, was no more” — is haunting.
Thank you! I didn’t see the Poe connection until you mentioned it, but I’m honored it reminded you of his work. This actually ended up being a second installment of a poem I wrote for the 2020 Poetry Marathon, inspired by another image prompt of rocks near a seaside that had golden sunset light flooding through what appeared to be a doorway in the rock. That poem was Old Man Under the Mountain, here on my profile if you’re interested. They might actually become a short story together, I think. Thanks for commenting!