Mater Theos

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You've probably been wondering about my latest huntings and gatherings. As you know, G-Dub, my local Goodwill store, is my favorite weekly foraging spot. The rarity or value of a certain piece is not the objective for me; the mellow, the little bit worn, the unwanted, are usually what strike my fancy.

Last week, I found this lovely vintage icon to add to my collection. I'm not personally of the Catholic or Orthodox faith, but I love them for their beauty, history, symbolism, and suggestion of the Divine Feminine. I'm guessing this one is Ukrainian, circa 1920s.  The sticker, still on the back, says, "Zawada Book Store, The Store of Gifts, 80 So. 15th St., Pittsburgh, PA".   The print is 12" x 16", and the colors amazingly still vibrant. I paid $7.99 for it, which is more than reasonable.

The Greek MP and OV are an abbreviation for "Mater Theos", the Mother of God. By the way, it's OV, not "oy", in the bubble cloud above Mary's head.

twilight

Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947

Is it hares

or do rabbits dance

after the sun sets

in a peeved lilac bowl?

Is it written in some shepherd's almanac

or in the creases of a woodsman's hand?

Who holds the secret

that brings the bucolic vamp

infant and ancient

to swagger her spell

from the curve of her neck

hot, humming

like a boiling samovar?

Two long fingers twist high in a vee

strong with branches for many birds

she signals bats to circle

swifts to weave tribal high

in tribute above cattails

dame's rocket

before spitting out the bruised sky

chewed and swallowed



Tess Kincaid
August, 2011

Many thanks to the talented R.A.D. Stainforth for reading this piece.


To join Magpie Tales creative writing group click here.

hostage

Twists of feminine

spayed from virgin beds

taken as slaves

briny objects

of lust and remembrance

to line window sills

strut garden runways

far from the rhythm

and slosh, the churning

womb of sand, landlocked

as a milk-wagon horse

cold as any stone

Tess Kincaid

June, 2011

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.