Tigress, Am I

There are few words to describe the Pilgrim's latest, "Tigress, Am I." It is honest, raw, and beautiful.

I slew my Lover and danced upon his body drunk with the maddening sweetness of Love, guarding him free and pure in the solace of my insanity whilst evil and vanity clamored in the bloody battlefields of mortality. Mother, I feared my power once, restrained and tamed it, but Tigress am I, I ripped the chains of logic and devoured respectability, roaring defiance into the wilderness and taunting would-be warriors to take up their lances and make a name for themselves, coming, falling, one by one until my Lover snagged me in his snare of songs and gods and art and beauty. Milky-white and pearly-eyed, he danced flute in hand around my sacred grounds and trees grew for him, flowers emanated their perfume for him and the sky wept with longing for him. He weaved a lullaby for my soul and the world watched in adoration our story unfold in the sanctity of the deepest mangroves no human eye had seen, where we loved and made love and lived love and created love, I, the Tigress and He, the Song-Weaver under the moon-eyes of the lilies of the Night. But I, yes I, Tigress am I, Daughter of the Mother-Destroyer am I, I ate what the gilded cage could not save and I slew my Lover and danced upon his body. Why, why you ask, my response is why, why you ask, Tigress am I, Lover am I, Daughter of Time and Space, my shape cannot be undone by the boundaries of rose-fields and the depths of my roar drowned the fish that swam under his feet, Tigress am I, my cubs are not lambs, my body is tender and ferocious and I cannot hide the strength of my walk, the turrets and domes of our scented groves were born on the bodies of the mutilated and failed, those warriors who had tried to trap me for the glory of their kings, and the tulips grew red of their blood...making my Poet weep. His grief birthed his fear as he recognized the sleeping ambers held in the depths of Tiger’s Eyes and if he stayed he would not survive the consuming sweetness of the fires that are sure to ignite but if he left his Lover’s side he would surely die inside. He slept with a dagger in disguise and his flute fled its lullabies as I, Tigress am I, wild as my Mother, wise as my Mother, smelt his fear and understood all this time he had only seen a star where a constellation lies, he had heard a note where a symphony played and he had loved a woman where a goddess stayed. Tigress yes, Lover, yes, Mother, yes I slew my Lover and I danced the Dance of folly with my sisters Grief and Pain and thunder shook and lighting blazed and the sky yawned an abyss of celestial heights as I wept and praised my slain Lover through these monsoon nights. My tears bathed his body to marble white and my thundering feet softened his bed and I called to you Kali Mother I, Mother I, Mother I, Tigress am I, wild am I, I slew my Lover and dance upon his body in praise of Love, in curse of Love, this Love I cannot tame, this Love you have made me with, this body and shape and soul and spirit that cannot take flight yet soars in your ethereal Sight, I cannot be caged but I want to be tamed…tamed, tamed, if only to be with my Lover again so I may be a pearl he can hold and not a treasure he cannot imagine, a woman, a woman, and not a Tigress, not goddess born of the Chaos of Your Womb in the madness of your Hair, not fire-eaten and honey-mouthed and Ebon like the First Night but, a buttermilk doe made of baby sighs. I weep Mother, I grieve, for I Loved Mother with the Love You placed inside of me and it feared my Lover and grieved him and I slew him because I could not bear his Living pain and the pain of his Living, I let him go Mother, back to You Mother, but You must know, You must know, You slew Your Lover too before He rose to become Your Sacred Symmetry, Your Infinite Illusion, the White Taj of your Black Edifice shimmering for eternity in the deepest pools of men’s memories. But I weep Mother, I weep for my Lover, for where I saw a god I but bathe and dress a body and I weep, yes Mother, I weep for Tigress am I, your Daughter am I, but my consort is but a man and now I dance, alone under the stony moon-eyes of the dying lilies of the Night in prayer for his resurrection or – my eternal Flight.