Kali

You have misjudged me.

You have glimpsed only the depth of a woman’s love.
You have not fathomed the vehemence of her contempt
when that love is thwarted by a betrayal that shames infidelity.

You have felt only the intensity of a woman’s faith.
You have not comprehended the potency of her scorn
when that faith is shattered by the reality of a treachery more appalling than mere falsehood.

You have sensed only the warmth of a woman’s tenderness.
You have not known the eternal ice of her indifference
when that tenderness is subjected to mockery and requited by a sham, a pale reflection of her love.

You have known only the sweet passion of a woman’s innocence.
You have not been scorched by her soul set ablaze by a holocaust of pain,
when she has cremated all the dreams of her innocence.

You have interpreted a woman’s gentleness as her weakness,
her unwillingness to cause pain as her inability to defend herself.
You have not gauged the power of her endurance, or the strength of her conviction.

Be not so deceived.

A Goddess is born from the depths of a woman’s heart,
hallowed by the ardor of her love,
or baptized by the depth of her anguish:

A Fury with power to which man has no equal.

Challenge not that Goddess; test not her Wrath.
It shall consume you.
She has no mercy.

I shall not forgive.