(Poem) Sicily by Mary Saracino

The Black Madonna of Tindari, Sicily,
by Mary Saracino

How was I to know

I’d be coming home

when first I tasted the salt sea air

of your sun-stained shores?

Isola Bella, something rattled my DNA,

dislodging its memory

awakening its forgotten longing.

Isola Madre, something birthed voice

erasing a long silence;

that which had been lost

suddenly reclaimed.

In Erice, the homeward-seeking doves

soar back to Africa each spring

released by those who remember

how true blood sings for its Mother.

In Ragusa Ibla, St. George could not slay

the Amazon hunters

or their ebony strength.

The dragon of memory

loomed fiercer than his shining sword.

In Tindari, the Dark One reigns still

Her benevolent eyes

welcome pilgrims of every hue

seeking solace, affirmation

in Her declaration: “I am black and beautiful.”

In Trapani, Siracusa, Custonaci, Enna, Palermo —

over hillsides littered with ruins,

through valleys, bleeding

with stark red poppies

across mountains erupting

beside turquoise seas swelling

we remember our First Womb

marked as we are

by Her ancient imprint.

Sicily’s salty air whispers

a mournful dirge,

a litany inviolable

the eternal archive of names —

women and men, young and old,

native-born and foreigner

living and dead  — who see everything,

hear always

speak unfailingly

releasing their long

soulful sighs

into the waiting

watchful wind.

[Previously published in: “Sicily,” She Is Everywhere! Volume 3: An anthology of writings in womanist/feminist spirituality, iUniverse March 2012, Mary Saracino and Mary Beth Moser, co-editors. Originally published at newversenews.com on April 30, 2006]


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3 thoughts on “(Poem) Sicily by Mary Saracino”

  1. I remember when She first came to me I recognized something primal – all inclusive – all may enter those comforting arms…thank you.

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