Crystal Light of Crystal Mornings
Look at Madonna in her royal blue velvet,
bejeweled crown on her brow – see how
the air crystallizes into a gold lattice
of purity? Angels’ wings flutter in the breeze.
The Lady of the Bright Mount sits still, with
the Divine Babe in her lap, crowned with jewels,
watching you – eyes, eyes, eyes – see all –
past, present, and future – oh, yes, they do –
“Stay at home,” they say, stay still, wait
for the golden air to crystallize around you,
fill with the mystic codes of sunlight, pouring in,
transmitted at noon. All birds fall silent, in awe.
Breathe deeply. The diamond air
of sunlit days is lighter than
the feather-light heart – without
terror, without guilt, without grief –
Think of babies, unborn
think of children, lost
think of grandmas, alone –
The Judgment Day has come.
Look at Madonna, she cares.
Our Lady of Angels, Archangels.
She wrestled the demon to the ground.
The baby is safe in her arms.
Our Lady of Seraphim, Our Lady
of Diamond Light. You will pass the test,
protected by the Lady of Infinite Mercy.
Theotokos. The Majestic Mother of All.
Pod twoja obrone uciekamy się
święta Boża Rodzicielko. O, Pani nasza.
Orędowniczko nasza. Pośredniczko nasza,
Pocieszycielko nasza.
She changes the air into gold. Space fills
with the diamond vortex. Seraphim wings.
So still. Crystal Air of Crystal Mornings.
So still. Diamond Light. Gold Lattice of Dawn.
NOTE: After Madonnas from the Norton Simon Museum
and elsewhere. With a Polish prayer: “We seek
your protection, Holy Mother of God. Oh, our Lady.
Our Advocate. Our Mediator. Our Comforter.”
© 2020 by Maja Trochimczyk
March 25, 2020 was the Annunciation Day, when the Archangel Gabriel came to Mary and said... It is pretty close to Spring Equinox, so that association with natural order is not too far fetched. I've always been fond of Madonnas and her Angels. The real Madonnas, not the Satanic impostor who now sings crazy songs locked in her bathroom and going crazy without her drugs... I've been quite offended (not even a believer yet!) when I first heard about this person taking the Sacred Name, the Most Holy Name of Our Lady, my Lady (Ma Donna)... And then spreading foul horrors around the globe, to bewitched masses who forgot that they have to look up to the Sign to be saved from this pestilence. The less said about this person, the better. Nothing can stop what's coming. Nothing.
See how the angels with six gold wings carry her up? Six angels, you can even notice their heads peeking up, and the splendid wings, six by six - total of 36. She does not need to sit or walk in her golden magical garden of flowers and birds. She just floats on angels' wings. Sweet... I want to float like that, too... There are more wings below, in the garden, where red, white and blue flowers blossom... Are these birds or angels? Three, six wings again. She looks at us, while the Baby Jesus stands up to look at her, and climbs to gently touch her face with outstretched hand. His foot rests on her hand, and she looks at us, as if saying: "See? I help Him. He is safe with me. You will be safe, too."
Be a Madonna
Angels are returning in vast droves
I see them - There is no turning back
Around me invisibly - tiny drops of light twirl-vanish
Air is clearer than crystal - like dew waters of heaven
So I sleep - peacefully - Breath deepens into a new world
we have longed for - Across all our pastures for truly to be
(C) 2020 by Ambika Talwar
This Italian Madonna is in the collection of the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena. I like visiting her from time to time. Her, the Divine Baby and the Angels. All in gold. Did you notice how luxurious is her coat? Ermine has black spots on white, so maybe this is sable? Very rich and soft. And what about that splendid gold brocade gown? White, gold, and indigo are her colors. The flowers below carry the message of virtues - Faith (blue), Hope (green), and Love (red).
No wonder I so love to live in Los Angeles, the city of Our Lady Queen of Angels, properly named El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río Porciúncula. The Village of Our Lady The Queen of Angels of the River Porciuncula... There is no such river Porciuncula... there is the Los Angeles river, and the Big Tujunga Wash, and Oak Springs, and Little Tujunga and other mountain tributaries of our seasonal river flowing only in rainy years. No river, but there is definitely the Queen. For some reason, I prefer the Gothic arches with their sharp tips to flat roof-like decorations in frames of Rafael’s Madonnas in the same collection. That’s why I found these two portraits of our Queen of Angels so inspirational. The Gold out of this world. The Queen of Angels who is here to help and guide and protect, if only we ask... Here she is, again, enthroned:
At the Summit
Trust the Madonna on the Throne
In a luxurious cape of lapis and gold
With the Sun wheel on her chest.
She holds the Good Shepherd Baby
Stepping off her lap into the world.
Her hands keep Him safe in his journey.
She looks at us, curiously, with a challenge:
Can you hold the Divine Baby in your hands?
Let Love flow from deep within your heart?
Her eyes are oceans of wisdom
Her crown sparkles in gold halo
Her throne is a tower of strength
The Star of the Morning
The Mystic Rose of Heaven
The Queen of All Angels
(c) 2020 by Maja Trochimczyk
This is yet another early Italian Madonna, enthroned in gold, with active Infant Jesus, who walks across her lap, like a little Good Shepherd leading his flock. She supports the Divine Child (the proportions are of an adult male, not of a baby), protecting Him with both hands - the gentle, strong, loving, maternal hands... And she also looks at us, as if pointing to her role of Theotokos. Eastern Orthodox Churches on the Holy Mountain of Athos have started their prayers to Our Lady, for deliverance from the pestilence, the virus of ancient evil.
It took centuries to spread around the world and slowly took over more and more aspects of our society, The Prince of this World had many devotees and his presence and their obedience to his cruel orders have severely tested those who refused to bow down to the Ruler of Darkness. This Ruler has no power of his own, none: all he has is the inverted and perverted power of real Creation. The power of Being itself, of this world that is good, very good - in its essence. Yet we live in a world so full of vicious distortions of what it is, in its essence, good, very good. Upside down symbols - the pentagram of the Divine Mother inverted, the three sixes associated with the Goddess - taken over. Even the triangular, healing pyramid, the generator of positive energy when its gold capstone is on, became a symbol in reverse... Enough of that.
Our Divine Mother has defeated the demon, wrestled it to the ground - as in this illumination from an unfinished manuscript, outlined but not colored in - that I found on Facebook. Social Media are good for something, even with all the censorship and nonsense.
My "Crystal Air" poem also mentions Our Lady of the Bright Mount, the Queen of Poland, known from her sacred icon held at the monastery in Czestochowa, and reproduced in thousands of copies in every Polish home in Europe, America, Australia... I have at least three of those in my house, in both versions: the one painted on wood (the real Byzantine icon), and the one covered in jewels and crowns (the way it is displayed to the faithful), so only the hands and face of the original figures are visible and the rest is covered with silver crowns and gowns, studded with jewels.
Not everything about the "Black Madonna" is so inspirational, however at home I feel with her indigo silhuette, embroidered with gold lilies, and lined with scarlet, the exact hue of Jesus's gown. She has a gold star upon her brow and both have solid gold halos, while the background is the green of hope. The Black Madonna has two scars from a sable on her right cheek, supposedly from an Tartar invader, who tried to destroy the holy icon and dropped dead, struck by lightning for this sacrilege.
Then, there are the monks, who claim a miracle during the Swedish invasion when carrying the precious icon on the walls of Czestochowa supposedly saved the city. What saved the city and the monastery from looting was a lot of treasures passed on to the Swedish troops as a price for being left alone... Ah, religion and politics... But because of this and other miracles, at the end of your two week pilgrimage, you are supposed to crawl on your knees in a narrow passageway behind the altar, below the venerated icon. I did it once, no, thank you. Not ever again. You really do not need to be humiliated in front of an object. It is much better to contemplate the stern image, or more gentle Italian ones, while sitting down in your garden and listening to the doves, children's laughter and the whir of hummingbirds' wings.
In Madonna, the Polish peasants do worship the Great Mother, her presence on every crossroads, here and there along paths in the countryside - they made small shrines with her image and put all over the country. Fresh flowers in each, I used to add little bouquets as I walked by... Or the Matka Boska Zielna of Harvest. Or the May Rosaries and Communions. In so many ways, she's Grander and more important than her Son...
Maybe I'll write a poem about the Black Madonna and one more about the other Italian Madonna, and yet again, about the lovely Gothic Sculpture of Our Lady of Kruzlowa, with its delightful S-symmetry of the body, that the sweet Madonna bended somewhat to support the weight of the Divine Baby on her hip. Having carried babies on a hip in the exactly same way around the house, in the kitchen, or in the park, when they got too tired to walk, I know this pose from bodily experience. I know what it means to be a mother, carry and care, breastfeed, and constantly watch over my child. I did it three times and my children are my life's greatest achievement. It is this Power of Creation, the Power of Motherhood that all the icons of Mother Mary with Divine Son celebrate. Our Mother. The Divine Mother. The Earth Mother. Theotokos, indeed.
Here she is with her divine baby, in her lap, surrounded by saints who rest in the Mystic White Rose of Heaven, the highest ring of Heaven in Dante's Paradiso. Beatrix, his Immortal Beloved shows Dante the way. Giovanni di Paolo had quite an imagination, and an endless supply of lapis lazuli for the blue robes and heavenly skies...
