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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2200727
A poem on the Great War of the Hindu Mythology


Oh, far across the winds and the distance,
Her voice flows, so persistence,
That it reminds the new of the old,
Of the buried terror that sleeps so bold,
And as the fire flickers with red and green,
Goddess Kali lights up the power e'en.

But if you feel the aching rush roaring down your veins,
If the world opens it's heart to you anew;
Why, then let's rejoice in your pain,
And hear those ancient tales of forgotten blue.

The story dates back to a hundred thousand years back,
When the lives used to sizzle down the rack.
A place where the serenity overflows the charisma of Mother Earth,
Where the motions of time and love gave a new birth,
The Daughter to Himalaya,
The Daughter to Mahalaya.

But on the planes beneath;
Where the dark waters guzzled down their throats,
Where the lands were overcast with dirt and heath,
Lived the songs of evil hauling like a coat (Asuras!).

As Devi Mahatma speaks - like the petals of uncolored dew,
From the forehead of Goddess Durga, as with the frosts that ever flew,
With the anger and vex that heats,
Hidden among the Heaven's beats.
But little did the leaves knew,
What brew in the minds of Evil, dancing with the clue.

And so the time came,
When the Evil Gods picked up their frozen swords,
With unbeaten hearts that pledge another aim,
And their battle cry of sorrow and destruction filled their cords.

All the Gods everywhere approached Mother Durga with distress,
I feel like it was only yesterday that they turned up hopeless
And prayed to her in solemn minds with love,
That from her forehead she drew out the beauty of dove,
Scattering them along with the strength of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva,
And so was Goddess Kali born,Anah!

A skin as raw as it is black,
Yelling over her naked body of fire,
So cold and hungry her stare that; there's nothing it could lack,
Named her Ambika, the mother of ire.

And with raged feet, she danced up to the battlefield,
Her burning locks down her temples like fire wields,
And slowly she crept into the darkness her foes had welcomed,
And she just danced and danced;
Till the petals of fire flew around from the scimitar she unbolted
From her bosom to the bosom of the loathed.

The sharp cut of the weapon invited fear and blood,
As the blood-thirsty Asuras leaped onto her,
But nobody could bear her wrath of flood,
Every time she cried 'Cur'!

Her fingers soaked in blood and unveiled hatred,
Tongue lolling as she made another attempt so sacred,
And with the sword stung deep into her villain's heart,
She drank blood so contended from her cart,
And raised her vision towards the others,
Who were running after one and the another.

She and drank and fought,
Dancing and Dancing,
That nothing could have bought,
Her spirits to a calming.

To stop her overwhelming anger, it called Munda and Chanda's presence,
Soon they returned with a body so bloodless and lifeless,
That the most Brave should behold his courage,
That to this day it scares to encourage,
Earned her the name of Chamunda, dark as ink,
To command the powers within a wink.

And so her dark body flew along the battlefield,
Crushing everything to pieces,
And while the Gods up at the Heaven healed,
As their anxiety ceases.

And to this very day, the terror sleeps,
Of the most dangerous war that still weeps,
And let us take vows on her brave name,
The will to battle a billion of a simple dame,
To restore the Heaven's Kingdom back to the Gods,
And so Goddess Kali's name remains engraved in the odds.

Jai Maa Kali!

- Tanya
© Copyright 2019 Tanya Bose (tanyaxxx at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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