Bright red and yellow lights
Drape across the bamboo poles to form a festive awning over the stairs.
At the top, street children gather behind a flimsy bamboo fence,
Staring, not at us, but at the goddess.
A figure made of plastic? Wood? Stone?
Does it make a difference?
She has ten arms, one plunging a sword into the side of a man.
A lion roars beneath her right foot.
Deceived, Deceived,
She seems to laugh,
Her proud eyes wide over the bowed heads of worshipers.
Her lips are slightly curved upward despite the violence in her hands.
The noise is loud and more frenzied than festive.
Men chant, half-singing, as they bow.
Candles burn, incense gives off a heady, sickly-sweet fragrance.
Smoke rises.
Deceived, Deceived
It seems to whisper.
The smoke and the smell rise, they spread,
Filling the courtyard, engulfing the worshipers.
Priests bow, throw flowers to the goddess mother, pray.
Their heads are adorned with a sacred string,
Their shoes left outside the courtyard in reverence,
Defying all that is truly holy.
Deceived, Deceived.
Gleeful, triumphant.
Satan’s voice?
The children watch in fascination.
Offerings of coconuts and fruit near the front display devotion
And provide a feast for the ants.
Eventually the people return to their homes,
To their other gods and goddesses.
Deceived, Deceived.
Holy, righteous, angry, pained.
God’s voice?
They are sincere, they are devout,
Yet Hell awaits,
Its greedy hands reaching to grasp their souls.
If it hurt me so much to see this,
How must You feel, O God?
Maker of all, the only Truth,
You hold out pierced hands,
Ready and willing to grasp the hands
Of those once
Deceived, Deceived.
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