The Rift

Mardi Gras. New Orleans. Before the levees broke.
Walking down the side streets leaving Madame Laveau's.
Leaving now from Bourbon Street, far from the noise and lights.
Raise my collar, walk away on a cold and lonely night.

Quickened pace, beating heart, someone chasing me.
All along the alleyways and the deserted streets.
Looking back, I see an empty path where I have trod.
Up ahead, I see the lights of the great Church of God.

Walking ever faster, I see the steeple spires.
Quickening my pace with fear, my feet, they are on fire.
Running ever faster, into Saint Louie's gate,
Now on consecreated ground, I hope I'm not too late.

Curious there is a door left ajar this night.
I'll just take a moment to warm my hands inside.
Into the great cathedral, I creep with guilty fear,
Looking at the angels, marble-carved in here.

Staring at the altar, the mother and the son,
Do my eyes deceive me? I'm frozen and can't run.
The statue there of Mary behind that altar grim
Has plunged a knife in Jesus, and blood flows out from him.

The gruesome image haunts me unto this very day.
As sightless eyes of angels did not help in any way.
They stood there in a silent guard but did not lift a hand.
So much for "guardian angels". I'd choose a guardian man.

So if you're in New Orleans this year for Mardi Gras,
Stay away from Voodoo shops and drunken Bourbon brawls.
Careful of cathedrals, cautious be of gifts.
New Orleans does still exist somewhere inside the Rift.



<AUTHOR'S NOTE: In 1998, I got to spend Mardi Gras season in Gulfport, MS. I spent a couple of weekends in January and February driving out to New Orleans, and I was fascinated by the culture and the rich history of this city. I visited Madame Laveau's Voodoo Shop (on Bourbon Street), and I also visited St. Louis Cathedral, which at that time wasn't far from Bourbon Street--same general neighborhood. I was amazed at the convergence of the Catholic, historic culture and the youthful, Spring Break atmosphere. It's a very unique place, and one of those places where "weird" stuff happens more often than expected. That (and the rich culture and history) is why I chose it as the setting. No offense intended towards any New Orleans residents! Also, the truly horrifying aspect of the poem--the Virgin Mary apparently stabbing the Baby Jesus--is nothing more than a plot device. The poem never even tells whether the image was real, or just a figment of the author's imagination. The idea for that particular device came from a statue that I saw of the Virgin holding the Baby, and I asked myself, "What would be the darkest, most terrible thing that could happen to twist this picture into something evil?" So no offense to any Catholics, Christians, or anyone else who might be offended. Please remember that the purpose of this prompt was to write DARK poetry, and please forgive me if I've offended any or everyone.>