Assault

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Assault

Poem — An Invocation to The Mother #10

Apparatus have I none
Of thought or intelligence,
Nor dexterity or contrivance
Of will or discrimination.

A vague insignificant urge
Leads like mahout an elephant,
By its tiny goad my being errant
Through this precarious life-bridge.

Yet I mount a rebellion
Against this rumouring villainy
That besmirches life with infamy
By an infernal dire contagion.

I prostrate myself as a base for Thee,
To assault O Mother this catastrophe.