Prayer

“What do you pray for every day,” aunt asks, as I open my palm. The kum kum today is red, the light red of fountain pen ink.

I wish I could tell her that until the same time last year I hardly prayed for myself. That I prayed for my sister and all the women in my life. For the goddess would know that the women could do with more blessings than you.

And all of last year I have prayed to her to make things better. She does it in fits and starts, just like I choose to work. Just when I go to her smiling about a day like sunshine, she chooses to put my piece in the snake’s mouth. And there I am sliding down its belly to the bottom right away.

~~ O mother goddess, you who stood fierce in sacred groves, before they shut you in ornate temples. You, who aremade of clay, for all things must return to the earth. You, who take the braves as consorts and protect the animals and the seeds.

To you I submit like a child: clear this confusion in my head; show my way clearly to see. Should I make happy all those all around me, people who love so dearly me. Or should I listen to the replies stuck in my throat and hold up until I feel it is all just right. ~~

prayer: the window siller; pictures: Egg.

good to know: Sacred Groves of Tamil Nadu by M. Amirthalingam; http://www.fao.org/docrep/005/y9882E/y9882e14.htm