cynchick: (Default)
[personal profile] cynchick
An awesomely empowering poem by Sampurna Chattarji:


All the goddesses I am not

Are gathered at my door.

It is an old rejection they come to reverse,

Perverse and unbenign.

I do not let them in.

They are not like me.

 

Not Kali, the loudest,

Clamoring for attention

The slow dance of skulls around her neck

Bone music to my fears.

She is aggressive, that one,

And rude.

Look at the way she sticks out her tongue

At all who dare to look at her.

A red tongue, thirsty

For another demon to quench.

She drank his blood,

Each self-perpetuating drop,

A furious suckling that saved the world.

Blood mother,

You would have killed us all.

It took a husband to make her stop

(Lord Shiva trembling

Half-trampled beneath her feet),

And bite her tongue in shame.

 

Not Lakshmi, the meekest,

Sprung fiercely beautiful

Out of a tumultuous ocean of milk,

A lotus at her breast,

She, a lotus at the breast of Vishnu, Lord Protector,

Inseparable bride

Gentle breathing light

Riding her white owl

Into the homes of the propitiary

Casting dark glances and blight on those

Who dare to slight her.

Mother of the world,

A whimsical tyrant,

Feminine and full of wiles.

 

And not Durga, the fiercest.

A cosmic blaze of energy

In her eyes,

A pinwheel of mace and trident and sword.

Terrifying, but derived.

Free of husband, lord, or lover,

But formed fully of all their powers.

A sum total of gods then,

An essence of,

Shakti, distilled, concentrated,

Burning the throat as it goes down.

Mother to none,

A lion between her thighs.

 

But

(and now I sense them listening, hushing,

Pushing flat against the door)

 

I have taken Kali’s anger and made it mine.

My black moods are hers,

My irreverence.

I whoop, I rant, I rage.

Many hands girdle my waist.

 

I have swallowed Lakshmi whole.

She runs through me now,

A river of desire.

I drown myself and again,

I rise, dreaming weed,

Clinging to love, unworldly wise.

 

And Durga?

Durga has given me freedom,

And I have paid for it,

Gladly.

She made a fighter of me.

She taught me when to raise my weapons,

Screaming,

And when to lay my head in my mother’s lap,

A daughter come home again.

 

From:
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
User
Account name:
Password:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
Subject:
HTML doesn't work in the subject.

Message:

 
Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

Profile

cynchick: (Default)
cynchick

January 2012

S M T W T F S
1234567
891011121314
1516 17181920 21
22232425262728
293031    

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 09:37 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios