by Natasha Deonarain
Mother.
Humble, we kneel at your feet touching once, twice, thrice and ask that you accept these token offerings our insatiable appetites emerge sightless, senseless into form birthed from the fertile soils of your womb to feed gaping gullets with unconditional love as only a mother could.
Caress our face your fingertips to lips we ask of you much more and so shall you give.
Madre.
When piety sinks to ocean depths in rock and so cannot be contained we drill for blackened soup as sustenance our goblets flow with heart blood rise to blanket watery sins with multi-hued suffocate slick in brilliant sun our briny alter to your steadfast love.
Kiss soft our cheeks and shed no tear for we are your chosen and so shall we take.
Maman.
Homage to silver pulp stored in silicon lock and key seep arsenical through glistening skin we strip your Body bare and give you back such forms of carbon lust our just exchange for effluent love the air we breathe unable to stop this mad pursuit we fall on grounded knee and cry aloud for you.
Hold close ourselves unto your breast can you now see how thus we are so lost?
Maji.
We anoint the center of your heart our plastic jewel so placed to swirl though currents of time and space compounded waste of countless lives to gather thus and uncontained as foul in drifting seas it swells our gifts of love for we are yours through flesh and blood these bonds cannot be cut.
Your whisper still resounds inside this fading light we cup so dear inside our palm.
Ma.
Filled with rot from wired lives we’re blind and so see naught but nuclear
dust on golden eyes our gratitude glows against cobalt skies the platinum
curls of angelic hair please take this garland of our shard and drape your
throat so thus constrict your beauty reigns.
You reach but cannot touch our sense and so we turn in shade
our sacred contracts broke.
Mana.
We your incubus by natural law must love and thus with each day passed we press our dying hands in paralyzed awe and bow in reverent prayer you asked for naught but our respect through all this time and this we could not give.
Is it too late this sinking sun that sets our souls to dark?
Ama.
Through dried brush plain and ochre red your kaleidoscope we tear your
clothes and leave you charred in burning fire may we remember all that is
and no longer here for us to love our folly does consume but ma! you
taught us naught and doomed to endless rhyme the past forgot.
This cycle must we repeat unchecked unchained for those to come?
Destroy.
Matris.
Forgive us please we beg of you for we knew not….and we could not
attempt to Be - -
Another way.
Last updated April 09, 2011