Mother inside the numb

The inexhaustible source!
The crow hopped on the paths
craft and shady,
as always
and came looking for you,
and came looking for you.
We are infinite sandy grains,
spores without germination;
air dust creeps in
in the brain and heart.
You were part of the flock,
a winking flock
clear as the day;
in summer you brought us the freshest branches,
those destined for the most sumptuous nests.
(In their cells, under cover
bees hide their golden jewels)
The smallest step was that of the little girl;
the longest step decided and comforting,
overflowing with thoughtfulness
it was yours, mom.
Nobody then imagined
merciless irascible witches
make you prisoner,
shut yourself in the cave
no exits.
None of them ever had a mother.
The source exhausted its inexhaustible water;
gray clouds covered the sky;
the precious golds of bees
they sank into the lowest ground.
And you, mom, you mixed
your anxious breathing,
to that of the whole world.