“If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?”
The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum
Under a full moon, I stepped into the house of god for a clementine I hoped I could be. I wiped my feet clean at the entrance, believing that all my sins will be decimated, selves that have only lived in the shadows, and now they’ll retreat in fear of the divine light. for repentance I sought, for something I am yet to understand, shame that is a second nature, throbbing constantly, it’s the anchor; My calm after the storm.
I sent an expectation that takes the shape of a prayer, beyond the realm of possibilities, For this is the zenith, the scripture is been reimagined, and I am the one holding the pen. Not a new page, not a cheap copy of a addictive fantasy but a sacred text, of a reenacted religion, I meant to reshape with a single Commandment to follow; the abandoned is meant to abandon, no one but the self.
I walked into the temple with butterflies crowding the rooftop, with a lighthouse reflected in my eyes. This is god. It’s the one. This is the one, in the sanctuary that’s modelled after a sandcastle, The only one I could bear my coal-darkened heart. I dug my feet in, keen to appease, to lay my heart bare, primed to be slaughtered in the name of honour, in the name of devotion.
I was Desperate to be the chosen one, and chosen one I was, but only of the rainy season. Those were the days of not enoughness, of bruised knees and clasped fingers, of falling from grace. I was never one to win the divine favour, yet I persisted in believing I could. I never faltered, I sang his praise. Day and night, flagellating the flesh, the mind and the soul. All of it in the sake of Reincarnation.
But all of my unwavering attempts of playing god to a god have gone neglected. My god is absent from his house, he’s sharpening his dull knife. My god is ravenous. He’s the devourer. The Soul murder, and I, an impure mortal, was never made to earn his respect.
His temple is filthy so is the hem of my robe and the thoughts festering in my mind. His altar has only known the freshness of a virgin’s blood, and I, not one who’s made to cry, was making futile amends. Unsatisfactory, unfulfilling, ever so demanding one. I revered him, trembling lips and shaky hands, in a final request, to look beyond my sins, for what transcends the eye, but even he, a god, looked down on me. A disposer of my pleas, a despiser of my worth for to him, all I could ever be is poisonous. A rotten fruit.
Under a crescent moon, I could hear the death rattle. I woke up to the coldness of a stone, a weight crushing my ribs, and purifying my heart in the altar I implored. I heard the absence of the god. I breathed in his indifference for a scapegoat I still am, a sacrifice unfit to be, yet my throat has been cursed with the blade of his dull knife, and I knew then, the price of the self-betrayal, the nature of the deities: Wizards of Oz.
I stepped out of the house of Oz for a clementine I believed I am. I ripped my hem, I wiped my feet clean at the exit for a god I’m no longer seeking. For a god I found I am. A new compass in hand, and a scripture with one commandment to follow; The abandoned is allowed to abandon, everyone but the self. The abandoned is allowed to abandon, everyone BUT the self.
Hello, Reader! Here is a commentary on the prose poem
Unmasking the Wizard was an unplanned piece. In fact, I was outlining a new essay that has a religious theme when I started envisioning it. My inspiration lied at the opposite end of spectrum, and you’ll soon understand why. I imagined this young woman, with blooded feet, and a filthy white robe who’s looking for a safe haven, and believed to find one in a temple. In search of protection and repentance, she was willing to become a ritualistic sacrifice for the worshipped god as long she was promised divine safety, even in the afterlife. Every symbol in the first part of the work points to a deep-seated desire for redemption, renewal and transformation.
Even though, the narrator deems herself unworthy, she hopes that the merciful, all forgiven deity will reward her efforts, but all of it was in vain. She recognises his apathy and indifference which are heightened by his last act. The dull knife was such a necessary addition, I pictured this god receiving a tremendous amount of virgin offerings enough that the knife lost its sharpness, yet none of that curbed his hunger, for he is still demanding of more. To him, she's faceless, replaceable and disposable. To her, he's salvation. Undoubtedly, The woman doesn’t fit his standards. She is tainted or so she feels, yet his sadistic inclinations leads him to slit her throat for his own pleasure. He pins her to the altar, and slaughters her with the same dull knife, not caring enough to save her from the agony of a slow death. In committing that vile act, she becomes utterly disconnected from her initial perception of him. At last, the betrayal pushes him off the pedestal, and she finally recognises his true nature. Not a celestial deity, but A wizard of Oz. An ordinary, greedy existence that exploits the naivety of his worshippers. There's no such a thing as a god. Spirituality is a lie, and he's a mere make-belief.
All in all, this is a journey of purification that evolves from one of devotion to utter disillusionment. The existentialist crisis empowers the narrator, offering her an insight into her own strength and self-worth. She walks out of that temple, despite choking on her blood, a new person with a resetted set of beliefs.
Whether this god is a divine entity or a metaphor for something or someone else, I am not one to judge. I am after all, what Roland Barthes, refers to as, a dead author. This prose is not mine anymore. It’s all yours, my reader. Decode its symbolic language and deconstruct its words. There’s yet to find out, and learn from. It’s up to you to interpret my work the way you seem plausible.
Okay I DEMAND more of this type of writing from you!!! So beautiful, so VIVID