Kateri Tekakwitha

Saint Kateri Tekakwitha (pronounced [ˈɡaderi deɡaˈɡwita] in Mohawk), given the name Tekakwitha, baptized as Catherine and informally known as Lily of the Mohawks (1656 – April 17, 1680), is a Roman Catholic saint who was an Algonquin–Mohawk laywoman. Born in the Mohawk village of Ossernenon, on the south side of the Mohawk River, she contracted smallpox in an epidemic; her family died and her face was scarred. She converted to Roman Catholicism at age nineteen, when she was renamed Kateri, baptized in honor of Saint Catherine of Siena. Refusing to marry, she left her village and moved for the remaining 5 years of her life to the Jesuit mission village of Kahnawake, south of Montreal in New France, now Canada.

Tekakwitha took a devout vow of perpetual virginity. Upon her death at the age of 24, minutes later witnesses said her scars vanished and her face appeared radiant and beautiful. Known for her virtue of chastity and mortification of the flesh, as well as being shunned by her tribe for her religious conversion to Catholicism, she is the fourth Native American to be venerated in the Roman Catholic Church and the first to be canonized.

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Carving Out The Eyes Of God

by: Goatwhore

Bastards of madness
Call out this prayer of vengeance
Speaking to enemies through these wounds of redemption
Tearing out their eyes with horror
Behold this chosen new devise
As the silence pleads this forgiveness
A senseless begging for absolution
Upon this entrance into oblivion
This fallen angel of defiance, destitute to isolation
Hold tight to liberation, in the form of reprisal
Project of this restored frame, in these pain filled alterations
This new threat of changing life restless in this completion
Powerless you crawl like pigs
Soon to be slaughtered
Suckling to a faith that you avidly hoped would save you all
These offerings will bring us our justice.
For these years of diluted lies
The answers to our freedom
The answer to the death of gods
These hands held into the sky so the dark
Winds can taste the blood of murder
As the blackest hearts obey thoughts of evil
Deathlorn rites, endure the lust for revenge
Surrender the state of embracement and release
This life from the dark interiors
Discomfort of this assisted torment is given in these regards
A scourge of awakening
Prisoned in the rites of blood
Bestowed with ancient plagues, we will forge a disease
Of rape upon your ideals
Within this lifeblood we will find the truths as blades
Slice open their necks
The answers to our freedom
The answer to the death of gods
Once reconstructed the swarm will digest
The souls of this imperfection
Sterilizing faith bringer has discharged
This assembly of this damnation
Burden me with your weak
Curse me with your sick
In blood filled walls I lie confined




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