(Poem) Tharros, Sardegna by Mary Saracino

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe stones share their secrets with the sea,

the brilliant blue sky, the tasseled grasses,

the trees—and any humans who will listen—

defying history’s edicts to remain silent.

Parched by the wind and the rain,

the stones speak fiercely of love and of times lost

as outcroppings of brilliant wildflowers

sing sacred songs in the sunlight.


This ancient place is nestled

against a rugged shoreline,

its far-away culture castaway like a forgotten dream,

buried beneath rocks and earth;

here, the outcast souls bloom once more

in the red poppies

whose bloody tongues

whisper: “Remember, remember, remember.”


Author’s note: This poem was inspired by the ruins at Tharros, Sardegna during a visit I made in 2004 as part of a Dark Mother Study tour of that island led by Lucia Chiavola Birnbaum. I think of these ancient places as sanctuaries, containers, wombs, collecting and holding the memory of the Great Cosmic Mother; I see the flowers, the red poppies (sacred to Astarte) sprouting up among the archeological ruins, as Her resurging; blood red poppies, blood lines, blood flow; menstrual memory, carriers of life of memory, of lineage—blood-red, like flowery blooming tongues, telling their stories; reclaiming their truths; waving in the breeze, bending into the wind, but not submitting, allowing the wind to carry their message, carry their poppy seeds of memory out across the fields; kernels of memory—like an amnesic remembering, then speaking.

Read Meet Mago Contributor Mary Saracino.


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