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Maman Brigitte by Claude Saintilius
~~ Our Lady of the Cemetery: Maman Brigitte ~~
The Face of Death
Ruby-red drops of blood mix with the white flour. The strong
alcohol is still burning in her throat. Passion overcomes her,a
yearning, a desperate physical hunger, spreading her legs wide
open, shivering through her body. She wants to embrace...the
Dead.
Fixing her gaze on the purple candle, raising it high
above her head, she whispers... Maman... Ma mere... An irresistable
urge has her pouring the purple wax over her body
while calling out to HER...
You are walking down the long and sparely lit hallway.
Following a noise, a whisper, the distant echo of MY voice.
It is cold, you are alone and yet you know we are all around -
waiting for you.
Treading on the path of the unknown, you feel fear, my child,
I know.
Be brave, go ahead, follow MY call, open that door.
I am over here, standing below the willow on that old cemetery
Yes, it is music coming out of this crypt. Have a look, go inside,
you will see strange rites but also merry dancing and laughter.
Dance with the Dead, my child! Dance with my children!
Do not take yourself too serious!
I am the Mother of the Dead and we are everywhere. In fact
everyone is a walking Dead.
So why not laugh in the face of Death?
by Jessica Grote ~October 2010 excerpt from Atua
