Tears

Nights between sunset and sunrise 

She sees a sea of raindrops, that 

Never emptied like the blue-sea

Dried leaves

Oh,  the tress doesn't know 

The fallen, brown, blemished, dead, dried leaves 

Make her an empty beauty.

Oh, the human doesn't know 

The black, broken, bottled memories, told and untold 

Make her soul complete.

Agony of Mary, the social construct.

Often decked out in Marian blue with a melancholic expression on her face, the Christian iconography of Virgin Mary not only conveys the notion of humanity but controls the psyche of humans with an invisible patriarchal slant though not transparent in the outer realm. The artists more often went beyond the colour binary that is highly entrenched in our culture, that is, pink for girls and blue for boys as Mary is the “queen of heaven” and blue depicts nothing but heaven.

Can the Mary in the scripture and Mary in the Christian iconography be tied together in a single rope as the gospels introduce ‘the god bearer’ as vivacious, courageous and determined who followed her son to the cross when the iconography make us known an alternative image of Mary which is more submissive and a bit down in the dumps?

Does the Christian iconography of Virgin Mary is an extension of our culture of toxic masculinity and submissive femininity?

Does the paintings of “Mother of God, High Princess, High Mother, Sister, The Goddess, Mother of the church” and more obviously the liberator for women aided in accomplishing the needs of the men by depicting the image of an 'Ideal women' that fits well with the patriarchal needs of the so-called society eventually leading to a culture of 'Ideal womanhood', that is, outright  submission ? Does  women stands for melancholy and agony ? Does  women reminds us of submission and surrender ?

Where is the true  emotions of mary, the high princess  who initiated the ministry of Jesus at Cana ?  Where is the true emotions of Mary, the sister during her visit to Elizabeth ? Where is the true emotions of Mary, the high mother during her  pregnancy and labour ? Where is the true emotions of mary, the mother of god during the  birth of her son ?  It's not melancholy and tears at all the time. It's not submission and surrender. It's not just agony alone, but, Mary  lived in and with  agony and joy, courage and determination. 

It's agonising to the see the agony and tearful eyes of Mary in the iconography though tears cleanse our hearts !  The iconography  merely silenced the emotions of Mary while the scriptures celebrated her  voice. Alas! What Else the beautiful mary  hanging on the walls of our home conveys !?

A girl went to a church.

 

A Girl is born,

How pretty is the little lady,

Having forty winks in the cradle.

 

Taken her,

The little angel

To the church,

The holy of holiness, 

the house of worship, where

The god lives.

Saw with little eyes, 

A little boy taken to altar,

By a man clad in white, whilst

A line was drawn, intact, between

Altar and the angel.

She is a girl, and the girl

Doesn’t know.

Excluded!!!

 

She cried loud at age twelve, seeing

Red blood flowing, that

Lasted seven days.

Went to the church, in pain

To see the lord god.

Said no,

The church, from

Meeting her savior.

Impure, the needy!

Excluded!

 

Crossed the age twenty three,

Stood in the church, with

A man beside.

Him tied her firm, with

A tiny piece of metal, and  

Made a cage with rules,

Numbered many.

Excluded!!

 

Saw her in the church, in

The Right side, in

The singers folk, behind

Men, with a

Violin and not a piano.

Stays the dual word, in 

The dual world.  

Never saw her, in

The crowd, in

The dais, in

The Altar.

Excluded!

 

A girl born to her, the

Heir of the rules, offered by 

The world

To her, and not him.

Seventy is not sweet,

Like seventeen.

Heaven called her,

Asleep in the church, at

The center.

Alas!

Saw her, in

The crowd, 

On her final day,

Included!!

 

The heir of her rules

Said adieu, kissed

On the forehead.

Came a Man, to

Wrap her Face, with

The veil.

The heir, a lady,

Stood far away.

Excluded!  

 

In Jesus !

 

Beautiful!!!

What?

The dream...

The late night dream!

 

Asleep, in

‘My’ room,

‘My’ bed,

‘My’ house, but,

Not a home, I

Heard a Whisper,

Soothing like

Lullabies, I

Slept with.

 

Jesus, you! ?

Gazed at ‘His’ face,

Uttered I

Three times,

“Here is 'my' Jesus, the creator”.  

 

How do Jesus,

Once a refugee,

Victim of empire, who

Loved the leper, and

Mary of Magdalene, and

The entire creation, and

Left the flock of ninety-nine, to

Be with the one left,

Looks like?  

Asked many;

The black with a bible.

The refugee, still

Walking without shoes, to

‘Rest in peace’.

The transgender,

Struggling to stand in a

Crowd.

The women, in

‘Supporting’ role.

The queer in a dry shell, that

The society offered.

The Dalit, I

Never touched.

How ‘Pure’ I am?

 

I stood numb, when

A girl aged three, from

The hills of countryside,

Asked, with

A smile and Eyes open.

Deedhiee...

“What do my father wear?”

“Does he looks like me?”

“Did he ask about me?”

“No”, I

Replied!

Then?

 

Went back I

To 'my' dream.

How do he looks like?

Clad in white, with a

White face,

Very tall,

So handsome,

Bit of machismo, he

Whispered on my left ear,

“What do you need”?

I replied,

“Everything ‘my’ father”!

 

Not a dream, a

Nightmare!

Discerned, I.

The Jesus, was

‘My’ and ‘mine’, not

‘You’ and ‘yours’

The elite Jesus!

The white Jesus!

The Jesus of Capitalism!

The masculine Jesus!

The Jesus of Binaries!

The Jesus of the Church!

Jesus, the Social construct

My personal Jesus

Oh ‘my’ Jesus…

I wept 'in Jesus',

Unlike Jesus, who

Wept, with

Sisters of Lazarus!