In the Garden of the Bridehouse

The Child’s Dream of Asters & the Water’s Elegy

48 The Child’s Dream of Asters & the Water’s Elegy The Folk Tale of La Llorona: A Cantata in Three Voices When the Spanish arrived in Mexico, they were impressed by the beauty of the Indian children. The Spanish took the children (the most beautiful) and gave them to their wives. Some of the Indian women drowned their children in order to keep the Spaniards from taking them. La Llorona is one such woman. She now is searching constantly for her children, whose faces she sees in all children. She kills the children to be united with her own again. —Bess Lomax Hawes The Child (Soprano) ………..nonitalicized text The River (Baritone) ……………italicized text The Mother (Tenor) …….…………with score Accompanied by the score broken below a child’s dark heaven 49 before, I wake: the aster’s after, I dream: the amber petals spread your hand the wax comb across the surface mold I crush as my body a human-shaped pollen swarms into scattered wings gathering the milk. 50 Waking & shushed, I smile & home: coarse swathe of black wool, pig heads on pikes, a basket of chapolines, your sigh lathes you to my ear. 51 [Mother] as a lullaby Piano You parted my body You parted my body in narrow bands q=72 as a lullaby [Mother] Coo -coo -mews the dove Coo -coo ¬ Coo coo Coo coo 52 Waking, I clasp your callused hand, your hair’s braided coal, my fate of sky. Tumors bud on the river branch. Pearling holly. Bruising plum. 53 ringing ¬ lit -tle child Coo -coo Coo coo Shade to rest life to death slightly faster mews the dove Come come al -monds fall Come come -Come ash come or chards blooms ash come 54 Watching You grind the corn I follow You gather the bits Watching You boil the water I follow You roll the masa Watching You pray the beads I follow You worship the guilt Watching You shape to husk I follow You cut the meat Watching You strain the blood I follow You soak in spice Watching You keep the fire I follow You stir for light Watching You cup the ash I follow You suck the lime Watching You heat the iron I follow You swaddle me warm Watching You take me for kiss I follow You tender my cheek Watching You ash my locks I follow You feed me song Watching You swallow me singing I follow You grace the furrow Watching You, I come to water I follow You, I song my life Hand in hand the river we sing strung together 55 my streaming hair. I traced the lifethru bloom's dew Coo -coo line on your palm lit -tle child Coo -coo Coo -coo mews the dove. the record of the body’s swell. please I am 56 Through the water’s veil, the water streams & cracks your thousand faces into a single skin fresh under my nails, brings you close to me. I touch the black ravines without tree, the black birds whose hollow bones already flute music. 57 [Mother] Coo -coo -mews the dove Coo Coo coo ¬ The river washes your throat :: tumors open to petals :: of attestation The river wishes the head against head :: gap veiled in the meadow sounds no longer :: asters burnt & curdled as milk Insects danced on my surface: stoneflies, mayflies, caddis. Diving beneath you folded, a mongst- weeds? 58 The river spills the depths of torpor :: the black lamb’s wool ribcage opened :: rib lung-cored The river spells as if there are no words :: black rock moving against brush :: love in no space hemmed contracted, contorted until movement broke, exhausted of breath Y o u 59 You watch I grind the water You watch You gather the bits You watch I boil the current You watch You roll the beads You watch I pray no song You watch You worship the guilt You watch I shape to husk You watch You cut the life You watch I strain no blood You watch You soak in spice You watch I keep the fire You watch You stir for light You...