She was so beautiful, oh, so beautiful.
People said that for miles around.
Her radiant face: the pride of the pueblo;
Her melodious voice: the most pleasant sound.
Blessed with a husband and two lovely sons,
She never imagined her joy would end,
Until the day she found her marido
Making passionate love with her friend.
Jealousy hungers for vengeance, and vengeance
Opens its arms to grief and despair.
The wife was driven mad by her anger--
The pain being more than the woman could bear.
Taking her beautiful boys to the river
That gently serpentined down to the coast,
She drowned them both to hurt her husband.
Their death would make him suffer the most.
“What have I done?” she cried when she came
To her senses. “Padre, condemn me to hell!”
She waded farther out in the water,
And then she drowned herself as well.
Unable to rest, her spirit haunts
The towns, the valleys, the hills, and the plains.
Remorse and guilt can eat at the soul;
A hollow heart is all that remains.
They call her La Llorona; her cries
Can make a person die of fright.
Though seeking her children, she’ll settle for any
And snatch them away in the dark of the night.
Beware, beware, beware La Llorona.
Pity her plight, but fear her intent.
Beware the consequences of anger
And vengeance that leave us with much to lament.
-by Bob B (6-3-21)
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