I wrote a poem. Aren't I clever?

I know, I know, it's been ages since I updated this thing. I really need to do it a lot more often.

Today is Tuesday; the day, of course, of the Petro Loa. I've been feeling incredibly tense and worrisome lately (for non-Vodou related reasons so I won't go in to them here) and it was perhaps that which kicked my creative brain into gear. I used to write a lot creatively but some years ago my writing notebooks just fell into disrepair.

This morning the outline of a poem about Erzulie ge Rouge popped into my head. I wrote in almost a stream of consciousness style - I did some editing but not a huge amount; just to highlight some of the themes and imagery by changing a few words here and there. If you'll pardon the pretentious biological artiness it was almost as if the emotions which sparked the poem as well as the nature of ge Rouge herself demanded the words just be vomited up rather than honed and measured. All feedback and comments are welcome!


Rouge


On a stained bed
Through a throat clotted with their spendings
I urged them on while my sister self
Fought mute, the other hiding pale eyes behind lace and silk.
I was a tongue
Useful for the moment but not to keep,
Or trust, or treat.

My children drink pus-thick milk and
It curdles in their mouths. Red lips.
We stutter with broken teeth, glass gleaming in our gums
And scrabble with painted nails at half-healed breasts,
Infection dripping with the hot red flood.

I cannot speak.
A sucking wound – seven stabs of the Virgin, seven curses for the whore
Do they reduce me to this?
A tattered thing, pumping outrage through bloodshot eyes.

My strings of wet hair hide my face. You cannot see
The black clots rise in my gorge.
All you will know is the imprint of nails in clenched palms
And the cut-off words
Drying in a throat still full of their spendings.

Nagini's Random Vodou Observations, #526

Serving Erzulie ge Rouge will result in unexplainable cuts appearing on your fingertips.

Florida water REALLY HURTS when it gets into the unexplainable cuts appearing on your fingertips.

Promises, promises.

Ok, so maybe Fet Gede was too long a deadline for me according to certain Loa.

I've spent most of my time as a Vodouisant working with the Gede, Nago and Rada spirits, and while some of them are certainly quick to act, I'm finding a whole new type of physical dynamism and speed in the work of a Petro spirit with whom I've been building a relationship in the last few weeks.

Yesterday I told her I would make her that new Veve card to attach to the back of her altar. Time, as it is wont to do, got away from me and I never got round to doing it. I don't think she was very pleased with this, because I spent literally hours trying to get to sleep last night. It was as if she was constantly reminding me that I'd said I was going to do something that particular day and hadn't delivered on it - and she wasn't going to let my day end until I'd done it. At 3:45 am I finally admitted defeat and got up, wrapped myself in my dressing gown and sat down in front of my altars with card and a variety of blood-red pens and pencils.

She's a harsh Loa, I won't deny it... but sometimes we need a push to get ourselves going; whether in the magical or mundane world. When I blearily fixed the card to the back of her altar space, I got the distinct feeling she was pleased with me. I splashed the card with florida water to cleanse it, and then on impulse allowed a droplet of the sweet smelling cologne to fall onto the deep red heart-shaped lips of her wanga doll. I could swear she smiled at me; and that the fierce red eyes I'd affixed earlier in the week flashed with pleasure rather than anger. It was 5 am before I went back to bed, and I finally slept soundly.

Nagini