Gentlemen, we need to talk.
We need to talk about your worship of the Virgin (she wasn’t), the Holy Mother, Durga, Shakti, Tara, Kamadhenu, Kali and other female deities on whose necks you lay garlands, whose feet you touch, and from whom blessings you beg.
Why do you hold the plaster and paint as more holy than Her human embodiment? The alabaster and jade less human and her flesh less goddess? Is She more sanctified than the womb you were birthed from and those from which your progeny will presumably arise?
Why is it you hold the image of the unreal Goddess as blessed and not the flesh of Her breath, those answered prayers born unto you?
Why do you worship at Her feet but slay Her Embodiment, Her Born Blessings with the dull strikes of your penis?
Do you not see the contradiction? The hypocrisy?
Is the silver you receive from allowing another to purchase the Virgin’s Child not the same as Judas’ betrayal? It is certainly the same crucifixion.
Except it’s the legs splayed, not the arms.
Why can you not see that the idol you beseech is has been born, is right in front of you? Underneath you.
Why do you pray your prayers to the hardened Divine and then corner Her twelve-year old soft Self to maim as if her body and existence is an invitation for your rape-ture?
Why can you not see?