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THE NIGHT OF THE SCORPION


Night of the Scorpion

I rememeber the night my mother 
Was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
Of steady rain had driven him
To crawl beneath a sack of rice.
Parting with his poison flash 
Of diabolic tail in the dark room
he risked the rain again.
The peasants came like swarms of flies 
and buzzed the Name of God a hundred times 
to paralyse the Evil One.
With candles and with lanterns 
throwing giant scorpion shadows 
on the mud-baked walls 
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made 
his poison moved in mother's blood, they said.
May he sit still, they said.
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease 
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of evil 
balanced in this unreal world
against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh
of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around 
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through 
groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin 
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother, 
I watched the holy man perform his rites
to tame the poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours 
it lost its sting.

My mother only said 
Thank God the scorpion picked on me 
And spared my children.
                                
                                            - Nissim Ezekiel 

For Solved Exercises of this poem, click on the link below:
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