A Mother's Loss

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Epic poem. Written from the perspective of Grendel the monster's mother from the famous epic poem "Beowulf"

Submitted: May 20, 2008

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Submitted: May 20, 2008

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A Mother’s Loss
 
My hunger was rising as I tailed Grendel,
My son, out of the marsh. I could tell
By the look in Grendel’s eyes that his hunger, too,
Was rising. He was readying for battle.
Many times I have sat at home, waiting, as my
Son invades the golden hall always to
Come back smelling of the blood
That mats his hair, bearing ample food.
But tonight was a night for feasting,
A night of commemoration. For those delicious Danes
My son slaughtered, saw a need for celebration.
Grendel saw it as the perfect time to
Introduce me to his old friends.
 
Grendel’s eyes gleamed as we approached
The bustling hall. My meal was far too entertained
To know of the imminent danger that was my son.
As we approached the heavenly hall, Grendel was
Alerted by a defense he was not usually met by.
My son told me to stay behind. I watched as he
Tore the soldier’s last defense off its hinges
Throwing it aside as if it wer some child’s toy
But fate it seemed intended for this meal
Of delectable Danes to be my son’s last.
 
His thirst for blood now towering, my son raged
Into the hall, seizing a frail body and crushing it within
His grip, slicing it between his sharp teeth, in a way
That made me glow with pride. Then approached a
Powerful looking man, with something different glowing
In his eyes. A gleam not of defeat but of triumph; a gleam
Reflecting the decision of fate. My son seemed to recognize
The pride with which the warden of wickedness approached him.
The proud man, a man by the name of Beowulf, King
Of the Geats, noticed, as did I, the look of terror on my
Child’s face. The infamous hero, slayer of all things
Threatening was going to kill my son, my child.
 
The thanes, coming to their senses, jumped from their bunks
Swords at the ready, pointing at my son. I wanted to run into
The hall, save my son, but all I could do was watch, as God did,
Only watch and wait, as it was my son’s fate to be defeated
In such a cruel fashion. Numbly I watched as the Great Gate
Seized my son’s arm; silently I listened as my son fought against
His murderer. His arm was twisted in such an agonizing way
That eventually I heard a scream as muscles ripped and bones
Were shattered. I was brought back to my senses when
My son ran out to me horribly wounded. Cradling his
Arm he ran back towards the marsh, to await his final rest.
I turned to follow, but I had one last look at my son’s
Slayer. His eyes still flashed with the triumph that he felt.
My eyes gleamed with the hatred that I suffered and the
Revenge that I sought burst through my veins. 


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