It was a hard-fought labor
that gave her life.
And so it was
her mother's right
to fight again
to bring her back
from the murk,
the seductive depths.
To call upon the gods
to restore her.
To pull her up,
to drag her out.
To insist that she re-break the waters
and remember her name.
To cajole, to whisper,
to cry out, to claim
her daughter
for the light.
It was that maternal push
to never forget
to always remind,
to wail and to rage--
to blight the crops
if need be--
that brought her daughter out,
whole and free.
So when she was restored,
she knew what saved her.
Reborn at last
to her mother's arms
and walking once more beneath the sun,
her gratitude
held her
in check.
She couldn't explain.
She didn't dare share
how the darkness touched her,
or who she was
when she was lost
down there.