Under My Sofa

Nazareth

She was bathed in holy light, searingly bright, painful sight, holy night
A splash of blue in a sea of muddy brown, thorny crown, tear them all down, shredded gown

My blue is sadness, not wealth, I'm not a queen, just a child who doesn't know herself

Never has she laid in the arms of another, never taken a lover, never used a pillow to smother
The guilt of original sin, never succumbed to the taste of bare skin, chastity, purity crawling within

Two small hands, grasping virginity, forget purity, what is chastity, I just want to be my own entity

Angelic bearing, forget the brown you're wearing, we'll douse you in blue, to insinuate daring, and epitomise caring

Caring for who? I'm eons younger than you, an unwed Jew, I do all I can do, don't expect this too

Selected by He who would give you the honour, of donating your life to the cause of another

I'm not worthy, small and unholy, growing so slowly
A child, mild, I can't be what you've styled

We took the liberty to remove the free will, you are pregnant with a child who will never kill, a virgin still, swallow no pill
Give all you are to this religion, heed this vision, and remain driven, why so panic stricken, it's a sign of greatness you've been given

What will they say that I'm with child? That I allowed myself to be defiled, where's the consent that you constantly preach, where the forgiveness your prophets teach?

The blackness of night presses at her black eyes, tears leak out, but she does not cry.
No longer a girl but a woman made, they skipped the rape but the intrusion stayed, He was her God, so she obeyed

Joseph, love, it was not my choice, I speak to you now but I have no voice

They interceded on her behalf, they called it mercy, and she wanted to laugh
To implant a child into her womb, they may as well have sealed her tomb, she could move room to room but she could not avert what others were bound to assume
The whispers haunted her deepest sleep, tears fell from her eyes, but she did not weep

Bethlehem loomed leaving Nazareth behind, but her husband was her new God, and her fate was consigned, for her child the stars would be realigned,
But she was the same as the donkey she rode, bearing the one that mattered home, leaving her own, the seed had been sown

Mary, Mary, quiet contrary, how does your garden grow? With seven hells, incessant bells, and faith at an all time low.

The child sprouted in her belly, the donkey's back cracked, her husband prayed for all they lacked, and she lent her voice to hope they arrived intact
But that was for show, because her God stopped listening ages ago, and she was lending a voice that she didn't own, and we all know how that tends to go
Agony split her young body in half, they positioned her husband to hold a staff, about as useful as the baby calf, tears streamed from her eyes and she started to laugh

Take me back to Nazareth, that's a command, I did all you wanted, I fulfilled your demands

But Herod came, lit a flame, the world went insane, and time burnt away
Twelve years went by before they had come, she grew to love her demon son, he knew so much, but he was so young
Her entire life was draining through a sieve, she begged her child not to leave, but he was double-crossed with nails piercing the hearts on his sleeve, water drained from her eyes, but she did not grieve

She followed her feet, and they walked the track home, door to her destiny, path to her litany, court case unnecessary
Pushed the door open to reveal dust, air stinking of must and childhood trust
Tears pricked at her eyes, finally cries, weeps for the lies, grieves for the time she spent watching the skies.
Laughs loud and clear because is it so wrong? Throughout childhood forced to be strong, playing along to the nightingale's song
Freed bird now, not God's fat sow, nor Jesus' dairy cow, all fate would allow

I write my own destiny with one shaking hand, melt down the single wedding band, drops of golden spatter onto my home's barren land, did all my dreams ever planned, all that men ever banned

Took a stand
Grasped time's sand
And did not let it trickle through my hand

***

This was so going to be late, but I just about managed even if it's not very refined.

This is NOT meant as a criticism of Christianity, I repeat NOT.

Mary is a metaphor for every woman who was defined by her relationship to her children and husband.

Thank you for reading.

Alex xxx