The Queen of Dark Lands

Draped in black she comes forward from the curtain. Rising and dancing her way through the darkness. But her soft form seems contradictory to the ever growing darkness. But this is not the first time when she is tasting the darkness. The darkness is her friend from the womb. Her first cry was not the only one. She has cried numerous times and now the tears have disappeared forever. The exploitation of the earth and her womb is also not the first one.

She has now accepted it and is now rooted in the land of Mordor which was otherwise a thriving heaven. Mordor the land of darkness, where the volcano rules with eternal anger. The centuries of violence made her into a warrior who felt no pain. Do not fall prey to her dancing ritual, a seduction that is the start of the revenge for your forefathers’ abuse of her kind. Now the generations of grandmothers are with her. Each one has a unique story, suppressed cries and ordeals.

They were exploited either for their body, magic,work or their womb. The true magicians who deserved to be revered were exploited. And now she has come back from the silence and the darkness. This time with the soft and subtle knife.

Her eyes and lips speak the words that you want to hear. But the meaning they carry is different.  She has mastered your own ways and deception. She knows what boils within your heart. It is not the love that you crave for but her skin.

And now she no longer feels the heartache but conviction towards her goal. She is here to show you again the depths of her pain. The mountain of lava is going to erupt and your generations will take a bath into it. Even after knowing this if you still want to find something that soothes your heart. Surrender. Total surrender so that her anger will die out and the flower will bloom someday. Let her cry out loud so the generations of the mothers will be relieved  from their pain.

Let her caress in your embrace so she will be relaxed somehow after protecting herself from everyone. Do it with your heart so there’s a possibility that she will turn Mordor into paradiseagain. She is the queen with or without you.

It’s you who decides to be part of the story for good or bad.But beware her silence is not the submission, it is a calculation. Every pause between her breaths carries the weight of centuries. Each shadow that moves across her face hides a storm waiting to rise.

Her calmness is a deception crafted by the ages; her stillness, a mirror that reflects your own trembling guilt. She waits, not for your apology, but for your awakening. The molten rivers of Mordor hum beneath her feet, singing songs of the forgotten. They whisper the names of those buried without justice, those whose lullabies turned into laments.

In their fiery reflection, her eyes gleam  not of vengeance alone, but of remembrance. For she carries in her bones the memory of what once was light, and the promise of what can still be redeemed.Sometimes, she laughs at a brittle, echoing sound that startles even the mountains. It is not joy but defiance. For laughter, too, can be a weapon when wielded by the broken.

The wind trembles when she moves, as if nature itself bows in uneasy reverence. Her every gesture commands, not demands, the recognition of truth: that beauty is not frailty, and softness can birth revolutions. Yet within her darkness, a tender pulse still beats. It is the fragment of the old heaven that refuses to die. Amid the ashes and the smoke, a single petal clings to a dying branch.

This is her secret  that destruction is never complete, and life always finds a way to whisper again. The Queen of Mordor is both the end and the beginning, the storm and the seed.If you wish to stand beside her, do not come as a conqueror or a savior. Come as one who has knelt before their own shadow.

Only then will she look at you not with rage, but with recognition.For to love her is to love the truth of your own darkness, and to walk through fire without seeking reward. When the rain finally falls upon Mordor, it will hiss upon the lava and cool the rage into stone. From that stone, the first green will emerge  fragile, defiant, divine. She will smile then, not for forgiveness, but for the balance restored. The Queen will stand upon her own creation  neither cursed nor crowned, but whole.

Muse : K Raginee Yogesh

Words & Images : Yogesh Kardile

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