Nostra Matri (Our Mother)


A heart of molten gold is quietly skipping beats

Hesitantly, painstakingly, patiently

Softly She breathes, trembling as She tries to hold it in for as long as She can

Nobody seems to notice…..

…..They pierce Her, and She writhes

They twist the blades, and She bleeds

They penetrate Her, and She cries

Her wimper is smothered, so no one can hear her

No mother in the world could withstand such agony

But She is Our Mother

And for our sake, She endures…..

…..To look upon Her face is to be struck motionless

Lost within the gaze of a horrifying mask

A monster has She become

For carelessly, sadistically,

Maliciously, they carve into Her, still…..

…..Left  disfigured

Taking only what they want

Leaving the rest of Her in pieces

Yet they can never be satisfied…..

…..Soon She will be completely unrecognisable

Both in spirit and appearance

Yet She is awake, and Her patience is waning

Even the Angels are poised, ready to release Her from Her bonds…..

…..But in the meanwhile…..

…..The War Between the Spirits plays within Her mind

Thunder explodes within Her ears, and She becomes deaf to all that is outside of Her

Lightning arcs across the Heavens, and She is struck blind

She has lost all but Her sense of touch

If only such mercy were afforded Her…..

….Cries come from within, and desperately She searches around,

Trying to determine from where they have come

She hears Her children, yet they are no where to be found

Her babies! What are they doing to Her babies?

Echoes of lost innocence…..

…..Echoes fading into silence

She feels their pain, but She is losing touch

Where have they gone?

What have they done?…..

…..Like a rising tide,  a crowd begins to roar; filling the silence with its selfish woes and wants and wrath

These are not Her children any more

These children are dead, soul-less

Their numbers are great, and their numbers are rising

Every now and then She hears another child cry out

But just as quickly as She hears them, the cry is absorbed into the growing mass

To Her knees, She falls in despair…..

…..Glimpses of Her body flash before Her eyes

She is covered in blood

Laughter follows with them…..

…..She closes her eyes and She’s back in Her head again

The war is still going

Thunder crawls across endless plains

And She is alone…..

…..When will it end?

And She is alone

Soon, She will be dead…..

……She is dying now, even as we speak

But She is innocent and, above all, deserves so much better

They talk of reincarnation

As if we might all be re-born into another form

Over and over again

But She is alone…..

…..Where will She go when She is dead?

And who will take Her place?

Or will She be resurrected

A new dawn, a new beginning

Starting anew, as the day she was first born?…..

…..But first there must naturally follow only more blood…..

…..And flowing with it, an endless fire from every vein and artery

With every ounce that her heart has to offer

For the more we take, the faster it will flow

Until we are filled, and can find the air no longer…..

…..Are we prepared to witness this Hell of our own device?

A Hell that we deserve?…..

…..I say this as we each take our turn stabbing Her in the side

Soon to lose the hand that struck Her

About ☤ T.S. Vandenberg

I am nothing if not my mind. My words are a reflection of my mind. Within them, I am eternal. Without them, I am lost eternally. As you continue to read, a convergence of minds begins to takes place. My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts. Within you, I may linger. Without you, I am exhibited.

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