The Sacrifice
BY R. APPALASWAMY
It is a ram–with long and spiral horns,
Grown sideways, and rope-fastened to a pole
Held firm by two stout hell-black human stumps:
And yet a hell-hound with big fleshy lips
And dark as blood, and drunken bloodshot eyes
Where evil fearful gleams, born under stars
Of evil that in an evil moment burst
The womb of Mother Silence and charged out
In space, and in time settled to a dance
Of mockery, darting radiations forth
Of hunger for the rank smell and strong taste
Of flesh, and thirst for juices distilled out
Of rotten things,–no wonder the head spins
And senses stray to acts of
cruelty..............
An old and hunched Margosa covered over
With ugly warts and eruptions of the skin
With arms and talons crookedly outspread,
Is all
impatience for the sacrifice.
(They fan with sprays of the Margosa those
Possessed with the great goddess of small-pox.)
The man with bloodshot eyes and fleshy lips,
Three turmeric libations offers, sprinkles
On the victim's head–whose eyes of polished stone
Have tarnished in a moment–and have shrunk
His flocks profuse of yellowish white wool.
Then in mute prayer the man joins his palms–
(The fellow’s nipples shine like eyes in bliss.)
The goddess’s sinister leaf-eyes twinkle
As a broad sinister-grinning knife upswings–
The touch of air is cold and sharp as death–,
A lightning crash–a mountain-wave of pain
Surges, whelmes Space, and sinks–the goddess nods
Assuagement at the sight of gushing blood.
The ram’s life is a long-forgotten dream–
A red blotch 'gainst the dim background of life–
A sad travailing and twitching instead
Remains of all the principles that have
Emerged through the vigil of aeons and concentred
And fused in the ecstasy of Consciousness.
–Emptiness breaks out in a low owl-laugh.............