“Surely your child will swim,” smiled the nymph. “Give your child to Pan or your joy you’ll miss.” The woman carried her infant child up the steps. Her prosperity and freedom gave her so much duress. The child endangered them and so must be put to use. She loved the little darlings and her child too. “The child will be fine,” the nymph told her. “Take another sip of wine. Your life will go smoother. The child will be so happy and joyful sitting at the hooved Feet of Pan. Such kindness makes status much improved.” She is a good mother to make such a sacrifice. She trembled as she looked at the rock face. She walked towards the edge of the Grotto of Pan. Alas, her boy would never become a man. “No,” corrected the Nymph. “He’ll be happier like this.” The woman looked over the edge and smiled a little. Thinking about the coming gain she giggled a tittle. If the boy went under the water her sacrifice was accepted. If the boy hit the rocks and bled it was rejected. Perhaps she was wrong; doubt crept into her mind. “Hear the approving talk of the crowd. It’s a sign.” She heaved the baby and tossed it over the ridge. She couldn’t wait for the blessings of pilgrimage. The boy disappeared under the water and reappeared. The sacrifice was rejected and now the water steered; The boy dashed into the rocks. Blood plumed in the water And flowed down the river to meet at the edge the boy’s father. Tears ran down his eyes as the particles of his child’s blood Ran over his hands too small to see in the rushing flood. Bits and bones and limbs collected at the river’s end and got carried off by animals running back to their den. The woman saw the child’s blood, her man’s tears and Quelled her fears with the sound of her jingling triumph. Pan granted her prosperity and social approval or so she thought. Her drinking caught up with her and gave her a pathetic lot. She grew old alone without man or fire to keep her warm. She looked away from women’s gazes for their eyes were full of scorn. She aged without a child to greet her or grand-infant to meet her. For wealth she sold her child. For food she sold her fur. “Take another sip of wine. Your life will go smoother. ‘You’ll be fine,” the nymph told her.
Photo by Josh Feiber on Unsplash