The Mother Poem by Divya Macsuedon

Oh Great worshippers of the Mother
And her many forms.
Look out, open the closet doors!
Centuries of dust have you stored.
Cymbals, drums, hymns and incense, to please, you light.
The Durga Shapthati, you chant
With all your might!

In obeisance you turn to animal 
sacrifice.
Some lose all to the Tantra Way of life.
With years of penance on deer skin, fire water and ice.
Do sages profess to gain a glimpse of Thy Sacred Might.

Sacrifice a woman, child or beast
All in Her  name.
From Golden temples, the bells they ring with pride.
Flowers, fasting, the correct posture, hour and time.
The Mother from Pandals, temples; at onlookers smiles.
For with rituals, pageantry
and pomp does she arrive.
Gems and jewels-at HER feet
The powerful sacrifice!

Some have at home, the smell of  female infanticide.
Others hoodwinked The Mother
By pushing to Kashi..
The women who bore their
lineage,
when husbands died.
Some for family honour and name 
Wiped the slate of the female name.

Woe betide a woman from outside,
She too then, for human sacrifice.
Mothers kill daughters for appeasement and with pride.

The Ganges squirms at the sins
washed and caste aside.
Your Breast must be a haven
Of putrid sacrifice.

I ask Thee O Mother 
Show me the way.
For those who know no Tantra Mantra, Japa or heresay.,
Should they, forever, stand in line?
How many would Thy eyes
see- bleed?
Why so silent, You  after Pran
Prathishtha be?
In this day and age your sword
Silent be?
Answer me Mother-Iam
But your child supreme.

The Masters, the Sages in 
Karmic cycles -they plead.
O Mother, Dear Mother. 
From Your Slumber awake.
The shame, I've covered, only
With a few tatters-
All in your name.
The call of your daughter
Will you let it go in vain?

From the mountains  -till Dakshineshwar.
I find no sanctuary.
I embark on a journey, not a mere pilgrimage.
If you be so Benevolent 
Then, need I your own plead?
I can wait no longer, my Mother's arms I seek.