Verse 49
The Queen of the Bright Road looked toward the country beneath all roads and said, I will know what my beauty cannot purchase.
The Queen of the Bright Road looked toward the country beneath all roads and said, I will know what my beauty cannot purchase.
Her ministers begged her to remain among the living. She answered, A crown that fears a gate is only decorated fear.
At the first gate the keeper said, Remove your diadem. She asked why. He said, Because down here height has no privilege.
She laid the diadem in the dust, and one star went dark above.
At the second gate he took her earrings. She heard then the small sounds of the dead, which jewels had always drowned.
At the third gate he took the necklace from her throat. Her titles loosened with it.
At the fourth gate he took the bright stones from her breast. She felt her heart beat without witnesses.
At the fifth gate he removed the ring of command. No servant came when she lifted her hand.
At the sixth gate he took the belt of fertility. She became neither mother nor maiden, neither promise nor memory.
At the seventh gate he took the robe itself. The Queen entered naked, and the underworld found no rank left to insult.
The Judge Below asked, Who are you now?
She answered first with her name. The hall remained silent.
She answered with her lineage. The stones did not move.
She answered with her lovers, victories, temples, songs, and cities. The dead yawned.
At last she said, I do not know.
Then the Judge smiled for the first time in an age.
They hung her upon a hook between being and not-being, and all the perfumes of heaven failed to reach her.
Above, the fields hardened. Beds cooled. Music lost one note. Even quarrels became dull.
A small black cat waited before the first gate and refused to leave.
The keeper said, Animals may not petition for gods. The cat replied by scratching him, which opened negotiations.
From the world above came two creatures carrying neither sword nor doctrine, only water and the food of return.
They did not argue with the pain below. They echoed it until pain heard itself.
The Queen opened her eyes and said, Which of my servants conquered death?
They answered, None. Death simply released what it could not digest.
She climbed upward. At each gate an ornament was returned, but it no longer fit in the same way.
The crown felt lighter because she knew the skull beneath it.
The jewels sounded louder because she had heard the unadorned dead.
The robe was warm because nakedness had ceased to threaten her.
When she returned to the sky, people cried, The goddess is restored!
But she whispered, No. The disguise is restored. I am what passed through without it.