That Last Day
when it was just me and my mother
in behind those crumbling walls,
we found solace in a hidden garden
still untouched by burning ichor.
This secret sanctuary was full of herbs
both magical and mortal.
But my mother’s prize
was her soft grey moly flowers.
Legend will tell you that the moly herb
is what Odysseus used to protect himself
from my cousin Circe’s magics.
But it was here, in my mother’s garden,
that the first sapling of magical moly grew.
It was once a plant grown
only by Goddesses of Prophecy.
It smelt like a mix of lavender and rain.
I can still picture my mother’s face
as she took mortar and pestle,
ground the leaves into nectar
and gave it to me to drink.
‘I promise you
it will make you strong.
Stronger than anyone
Or anything that you see.’
I would drink the sweet
lavender-honey-rain drink
every time she gave it to me.
I once asked her,
‘Why do I need such strength?’
