Ashes, mommy.

Goddess protect me from nothing
One love always adds more to itself
The servant is the master of masters
Guru is in the crystal moon crying
Buddha’s tear fell to earth and I became her
Lord hear my prayer even when I stop praying
The mother is the all and everything of this mess
Hail the mother light and hold the mother dark closest…

because midnight is coming to count heads soon…

in flesh I made these bones my home. In time I made this space eternal. A broken clock hangs from this wall, like I, who scream “Where have you gone?!” I hang from this cross limp and yet seductive. Time and space where my mother weeps and yet cannot hold my hand, all we ever came for was the sight and taste of her dripping breast, to touch her skin, to hear her breathing in our ear- It makes no sense, the sense of her…the tomb of wedding vows we endure, the honeycomb of alliance between the line and the drop. You still don’t get it do you? You aren’t escaping, walking, reacting, creating…you aren’t doing anything but hanging and watching your thoughts dry hump you while the blood slowly drains from your flesh, leaving only your bones echoing….you used to be here like a leach sucking its own blood. The earth drains into the sound hole, the echo gets filled with your soul. Then you blame it on me. Some sort of security or insult- I am a rock always falling from the edge of the cliff, my existence smashing your plans for a brighter future. Why are you so stupid? Is it because mommy and daddy weren’t very smart? I guess that’s it, we can’t move beyond our creator-and that’s as scary as hell. Daddy wasn’t a genius and mommy wasn’t a brilliant flash of anything but bad dinners and whining. Somewhere stuck in time and beating our brains into bacon…I won’t be waiting in squalor, I’ll be sitting on death holding him still. I’ll be blowing my breath into her eyes. Black hole Sun. Only in.

And nobody matters but me and how I match the face I’ve made….the fires I light, the death I catch. It isn’t a mistake, not an accident waiting to happen. It is a glory beyond bridges that burn. It is a corpse beyond movement that hinges. It is a pain beyond bliss that consumes. It is a shock beyond stillness. It is a heart with no thump. You won’t beat me because I’m beaten daily. I’m a hot and aching wishbone of thrusting- mounted like a mountain range with a sun and moon strung through me constantly trading places. It’s all a big thankful bang from both sides and
still this fire never dies…but hisses the sound of two snakes listlessly and eternally being wrapped into one…peace and quiet isn’t possible, only getting spanked and buried and pierced and poked and smothered and strangled until you burst into HER SPIRALING FLAMES
then you’ll know whose who…

It is even said that the great mystic Rumi summed up his life with these final words of enlightened wisdom,
“I burnt, and burnt, and burnt.”

Hahaha! See what I mean?
give me someone to burn…
It’s never the end of the climax…
so rock me more love socket.
Ashes, mommy.
Sharada Devi

1 thought on “Ashes, mommy.”

  1. Mommy was melting into a state of detached oblivion
    having been sternum cleaved open and heart altered
    by strange hands in a strange land
    after a long languishing
    returned home
    never to be the same again
    every vital organ which serves to sustain
    shirking, shrinking and failing to comply
    with their forsworn duty to fulfill
    So we came and we saw and we tried to conquer daily
    bathe, feed, soften and contend with the omega of your days
    but God has his plans
    as the sands of your karma run through
    though love and care are strong and willing
    inevitably 2 years hence
    the way of all flesh passed it’s true course
    So i watch as all life breath rescinded
    from your wan and dwindled visage
    no more would You ask me repeatedly, with an other-worldly
    quizzical squint of confusion on your now childlike glazed stare
    in a room swimming with an over abundance of oxygen
    just to keep you alive one more day…
    “ Are you apple? ”
    So you were gone
    – And then there was one-
    Who after 5 years
    once again succumbed
    to what was thought to be purged
    only to find the years splurged
    on borrowed time
    your marker called in
    first colon then lungs now brain
    un-pretty maids all in a row
    too late to ask why
    it’s just time to let go
    head split open like a melon
    sutured back up like the stitches
    on the baseball sphere that you held so dear
    please don’t fear
    we will be bedside near
    as always
    until the end
    keeping vigil
    You who have now become so small and withered
    looking every inch like Gandhi
    skin and bones in your death diaper
    slipping away in your tiny bed
    in your grand house
    -and then there were none-
    my sister made an appearance at the memorial
    urn and ashes and an old army photo on display
    she stated her terms of endearment and never
    did she even glance my way
    my elder Brother cut his long, long hair as an expression of
    sacrifice, homage and contrition
    my youngest brother did not have the heart to even show
    even in death it seems
    forgiveness is a work in progress
    I sang for my Father
    a song i learned from my Kriya Yoga Teacher
    “May the blessing of God rest upon you
    may His presence abide with you
    may His presence illuminate your heart
    now and forevermore”
    The Paterfamilias was no more
    when the ransacking and pillaging by my sister
    and her husband was completed
    with nothing left to plunder
    EVERYONE headed for the hills
    Those 3 years had been some of the best years of my life
    regardless of the circumstance
    it was an envelopment of love in the darkest
    and brightest of contrast, color and schematic
    It was real and it was real and it was real
    and it was past time healed.
    i am not looking to be commended for what i did
    i would do it again lifetimes over
    Afterwards, i walked alone and tried to hold my head up high
    and not be afraid of the dark
    searching for that road with the golden sky
    and the sweet sliver song of a lark
    walking on, walking on with hope in my heart…
    stumbling and falling too many times along the way
    prodded into driving cars
    pushed down stairs
    slipping into elsewhere
    finding myself in hospital
    3 times over
    but death did not take me still
    Other peoples desire for money is a strange and
    precarious concept
    the love of it is said to be the root of all evil…
    Blood from a stone
    wishful thinking
    great expectations
    covet without compromise
    Such is maya
    In the end
    there is nothing else but what we have done
    and what we do…
    for ourselves and for others
    i’m still here…
    attempting to rectify what remains

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