I brought flowers
They’re not all white, Mother
But they’re morning’s fresh flowers
They opened yesterday
I kept them by me all night
While straining the honey
And weaving my dress
It’s not white, Mother
But it will do for the sacrificial table
I brought the tacula* cream
Used in Grandmother’s day
It’s not thick, Mother
But it covers my body
I brought the candles
Of wax and bees’ wings
They’re not pure, Mother
But they can burn all night
I brought the song
It’s not clear, Mother
But it has the right birds
To follow the days as they fall
Between my time and yours.

*The wood of the tacula tree is used to make a red dye and powder, from which a cream with reputedly protective qualities is produced in turn.