“Milagros are religious folk charms traditionally used for healing purposes and as votive offerings in Mexico, the southern United States, other areas of Latin America, as well as parts of the Iberian peninsula. …[T]hey can be constructed from gold, silver, tin, lead, wood, bone, or wax. In Spanish, the word milagro literally means miracle or surprise.”
Dear red striated muscle, vascular and
slightly bigger than my two cupped hands,
I saw your image stitched and stuffed as a well-
worn pincushion with the legend “There
is a place in my heart for you”. I cringe
at the thought of needles; and also because
I know that every eye, finger, bone, or body
part left by the wayside altar means something
has been sacrificed, given at cost for another’s
due. Crow feasting on that bit of severed
flesh, do you stop your fevered work to notice
the day is overcast and cool, doused with
the creosote smell of rain? It doesn’t fall,
only makes threats that cast a pall on our
determined plans. And your rejoinder comes alongside
calls exchanged by ravens: how mystery is never led
nor haltered, but even the bird clothed head to claw
in ashes, flashes a tin orb: a jewel in its drusy eye.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
This one really moves me. Thank you, Luisa.
Thank you Rachel.
“Dialogue on Miracles” is my poem response to Luisa’s “Milagrito: Eye of the Raven”, also posted in:
http://ambitsgambit.blogspot.com/2011/07/dialogue-on-miracles.html