For a while I could not remember some word
I was in need of,
and I was bereaved and said: where are you,
Golden Temple in Amritsar, Punjab, India.
This is Mary's latest book after all, so I'm guessing she is speaking of age and losing words and the mind turns mushy. So is she losing the medium of her art?
Aren't we all?
Are we always falling down in gracious awe of the sun bathed earth - the golden temple? What if aging, decay, illness, were one large prayer to earth?
We were born to be bereft of the beloved, but the temple is always there - our bodies, earth bodies, one body!
So today let me fling my words away from me, my health, my walking, and let them tumble down the Maya temple, headless, without thought. Just heart and bones.
Oh yes, they may eat my heart too.
|Depiction of Maya Sacrifice from Film Apocalypto|