Magi

Natives, Slavs, dark Irish, moan

for elsewhere, sigh like an accordion―

they hover with snake eyes,

offer melancholy and vodka.

Smoke rises from their pipes,

twists the many places before

with all the next stations―

part boxcar, part gypsy wagon.

They swaddle in babushka, braid bone

in my hair, rock me in peat and hay,

croon lullabies of painted roses.

I am colicky―sleep takes a long time.

I dream of conjurers, hypnotists

whispering  a distant star―

a scent of madness and resin candles,
the raven-smooth face of the Black Madonna. 

tk/March 2014



R.A.D. Stainforth melts my words like candle wax... 

Join Magpie Tales creative writing group.

*The Sleeping Gypsy, 1897, by Henri Rousseau

black madonna

my reflection in the Black Madonna

Our eyes meet dark
across the kitchen sink,
pooling maternal kinship,
without a lot of fussing
and praying, we regard
a settled melancholy.

Thoughts crisscross
quiet over the dishwater,
with a soothing ritual scrape
of accumulated leftovers,

keeping the best scraps
a sacred Eucharist,
cooled and wrapped
in smooth silence,
to be digested
tomorrow.



Tess Kincaid
April, 2011

Black Madonna image from Wiki

WT gave me a beautiful framed vintage print of the Black Madonna of Częstochowa for Christmas. The galley-style kitchen at the manor has a sink that faces out toward a bit of wall.  She hangs, facing the sink, keeping me company as I tidy up the dishes.

There are many theories as to why she is called the Black Madonna, including the dark skin is that of the pre-Christian earth goddesses, the theory that she expresses a feminine power not fully conveyed by a pale-skinned Mary, or that the dark skin is more appropriate in describing the original skin color of the Virgin Mary.

There are those who believe she has some esoteric significance, including being revered by the Templars. I'm quite fascinated by her beautiful dark mystery.