Dark Mother, born of war, Kali,

In anger did I invoke thee;

Without eyes to see you come

I tasted you upon my tongue

And now is all your anger done?

Four arms, with two you embrace

Your child, their blood upon your face

Slain by two other arms’ fierce grace

From your three eyes, blood and tears

from past, now and the untrodden years

For love, life and lies cut short in death

You lick the bones until white is left

Your triumph dance is also a swoon;

Something missing in the dark of moon,

For they were your kin that had to die

So as you celebrate you too must cry,

In darkness, mother, you came to me

With tools of death to set me free

And thus in love you helped my end

I must love life now, death, my friend,

You came when i needed you most

Yet I cannot hold your power close.

Antonia Sara Zenkevitch