In the Garden with Roses and Birdsong

Here, here, here

by Maja Trochimczyk

I love my mountains

blue and spring green still

under clear azure expanse,

their velvet pleats pile up

in layers above the valley

rock pathways in empty riverbed.

This is the Earth - naked

free of trees and houses, of rush

and pavement and cars on hot asphalt

in LA summers - this is

pure repose - serenely breathing

slowly, deeply - in the cycle of centuries

I love my mountains

the bluish shadows on distant slopes

manzanita and sage scattered 

on those close by- they open

like curtains into infinity - to let me in

beyond the next peak, the next canyon

into new worlds that grow within

in warm sunlight, under cool glow

of spiraling galaxies before dawn.

I'm here, I found my life

waiting for me under the indigo

cupola outlined with deep purple

at the ridges -  here crickets

measure the night as they sing

"we are here, here, here, here..." 

while birds sleep

hidden among branches.

Only the distant waves of truck noise

from the freeway remind me

that this paradise of mine

this magic, fluid, living 

folding and unfolding is my LA home

my own LA LA Land, of sweet

mountains under the brightest of Suns.

Reflections about Our Lady, Queen of Angels

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.

It is a rare image of Mary, with her Divine Crown, indigo robe and scarlet cape that fights the beast of darkness... Baby Jesus prays, safely held by angel with rainbow wings.  The artist painted this for his own amusement  I think, not for public displays, where a Madonna would be majestically seated, facing the faithful with a stern, penetrating gaze.

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...

Poems for Valentine's Day - Will You Walk By My Side?

The question on pink and red Valentine's Day cards and candies is: "Will you be mine?"  I think that's the wrong question. The right one is: "Will you walk by my side?" You cannot own another person, that's slavery. But you can walk together, not in front of each other (leading), not behind (following), but together, side by side, on the path of life. To do that, we have to focus on what's truly important. As T.S.Eliot said, "the still point of the turning world" - Light, Love, Christ...

The Still Point

I like the way you look at me,

drinking me in

with quick, short glances,

as if it were too much

to see me whole

Very thirsty for love,

aren’t you?

You are the matter of a man

I’m the spirit of a woman,

we belong together

From all the possible futures

I pick the one

where you are with me

The space-time cone moves,

the options shift and shrink

every second 

I place you at the still point

            of my turning world 

(c) 2007-2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

There are so many delightful, meaningful stories, endless truth hidden in fairy tales. I've always loved fairy-tales and folk-tales, and have a nice collection of international stories. Only Brothers Grimm are so truly grim... others have discoveries of the walking kind, for instance, the princess that walked the world for three years in iron shoes to find her beloved (Slovenian "Pigeon Prince" tale). Or the Prince Charming who climbed over ancient thorny hedges and walls to find his Sleeping Beauty and wake her up with the kiss. That's the kiss of Love and Light, of course, true union of their souls. 

Up, Up, Up

With you, I’m a fairy-tale princess,

a Cinderella, perhaps, with her gold

spun-glass slipper on my nightstand

by the Polish Bible I use each day

to find out if I’ve been good.

I really do not know.

Sometimes, I’m a sleeping Beauty

with rosy cheeks, awakened

by the lightest touch of your lips.

Why are you my Prince Charming?

I really do not know. Why

did I have to cross the Great Plains

fly over oceans, wear out

three sets of iron boots, defeat

the Leviathan and the dark

Chameleon in my dreams?

Here I am – here we are

together. Step by step,

holding hands, we climb

the inaccessible heights of God’s

white mountain, its snowy peaks

dazzling with the brilliance

of the sky – song – light – 

(c) 2011-2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

Heart

…petal by petal, the flower of our heart

                                              ~ Amy Lowell

drawing together

the vine of heart leaves

stroke by stroke

from darkness

into light

intertwined –

with the vine

of love

(c) 2014-2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

 

As love grows, its meaning deepens, beyond passion, beyond infatuation, towards endless delight and admiration, arising from the true clarity of a shared purpose, shared light... The more we know the profound beauty of the beloved, the mysteries within, the more love there is.  Love is truly endless, the more we give, the more we have to give. It never stops, never dies. 

Amber

Red gold of falling leaves

and amber, liquid amber

engulf me with the intensity

of our love for all seasons –

Even the invisible California winter

without snow, with bright sunshine

and birdsong each morning – in time

for Darjeeling tea, Columbian coffee

and naleśniki, flat Polish pancakes

with a touch of maple syrup from Vermont.

The whole world celebrates with us

for we know true meaning of attachment –

not the pink blush of infatuation –

not the wine-red rose of passion –

but this, only this – pure clarity

of azure skies – clear radiance of red gold

and amber – liquid amber 

(c) 2017-2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

Forever - is made of "nows"- wrote Emily Dickinson in one of her timeless poems. Indeed, forever is nothing but a string of moments, each more precious than another, each shining with a warm light of love within.

Afterglow

you taste of sunlight

sweetness, soft swirls

of ice cream melting

on yellow rays of mango slices

the golden glow of honey

in your eyes

you surprise me

I turn my head and

there you are, looking at me

over your oil-smudged fingers,

engine parts –

smiling

you know what I think

you taste of sunlight

(c) 2008-2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

Lost and Found

  

… the sky of the sky of a tree called life

                          ~ e.e. cummings

I found myself

in a perfect place

I laugh to tears

and I like what I see

after broken pieces

of Devil’s mirror were

washed away from my eyes

There’s no torment here,

no limits, only the infinite

glory of becoming One

with Universe, One with

the Divine, endlessly delighted

No anxiety, no desire –

I live right here, right now

Thank you for the key

that opened my door to Paradise –

Serene, fearless, I’m wholly

and whole made of Love –

(c) 2010-2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

Twin Flame Promise

                        

to have, to hold, and to cherish

                                                ~ old English wedding vows

I take you to be my beloved

for today and tomorrow

for all days and nights

for a week and all weeks

for a month and all months

for a year and all years

for all eternity

wherever we are and will be

in rain and sunlight

in joy and happy togetherness

of our most holy marriage

our divine union

I promise you solemnly my love

faithfulness and honesty

and that I will not leave you until my death

I will be with you as long as I exist

I promise you the love of my heart

because you are my heart –

and the love of my body

because you are my body –

and the love of my eyes

because you are the light of my eyes –

and the love of my soul

because you are my soul mate

my being’s other half

my fulfillment now and forever

In God, our Divine Source, Way and Life

sharing our love for ever and ever

And so let it grow and last and be

my promise for you and yours for me

(c) 2015-2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

I Did Not Dare To Hope

Yet I know it is true.

This certainty is of a bubbly

sparkling kind – it floats up

like champagne in a tall flute

to welcome the New Year

of promises to keep, of bliss-filled

Love that never was, but always is –

always as in a country song of old

shining on pink rose petals

covered with diamond dew

in the morning, under

the periwinkle sky

“of endless possibilities

and our greatest dreams”

that we’ve known

and will know –

together.

(c) 2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

Diamonds

In a seashell there is an ocean

There is Universe within my heart

A myriad galaxies dance in my mind

I’m a microcosm of Divine design

In a seashell there is an ocean

In dark coal mine bright diamonds grow

In your eyes I find ageless wisdom

The One Love that sustains us all

In your guilt I see my darkness

In your beauty – radiance and light

In your voice – the calling, the calling

Mountain air on a spring morning

Sparkling diamonds, radiant and pure –

            For all forevers you enfold me in Love 

(c) 2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

So you look within, look inside the rose blossom, admire the infinite geometry of its petals? But what if you looked up? Towards the light-filled sapphire sky that all flowers stretch up to?  Roses, magnolias, sunflowers - they all move to the light, and maybe the secret of love is to do as they do?

In the Valley of Yes

I wrote it out in a thousand words

again and again, affirming

the forgotten truth.

You opened your eyes, bewildered,

finally seeing what is to be seen,

saying what is to be said:

We have crossed over into the Soul

now merging into what’s before us.

That is you on the interior, lining

the depth of my heart. You are the center

of my Universe, as we are aligned

perfectly under the Sun.

A rarity found true. You and I.

As we climb the path of life alongside

each other, I am honored to walk with you.

Now, I am looking through the lens of Love

that opens into the landscape of you,

a wildflower that comes alive in me.

I found a slice of Heaven, in front of me.

It is you! I love you today,

tomorrow and

forever

(c) 2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

Sapphire

My tiger orchid blooms again

for the third time already

It looks at me shyly

with topaz eyes

thinking, I’d remember

that night, that music

of togetherness –

Expand, expand, forever

expand – our hearts fill

with Cosmic Light of

a thousand Suns –

liquid and flowing

to heal and purify

We thank, we praise

the One Love

that blossoms

in emerald gardens

in sapphire flames

and bright tiger eyes

(c) 2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story

Sweet Nothings

We are the wings of a butterfly

Dancing in the vortex of time

Ascending to the heart of the galaxy

Flying higher and higher and higher

I love you. You love me.

I love you. You love me.

We are love, love, love, love

One love.

We are the wings of the butterfly

Twirling with a flutter in the breeze of time

Carried by currents beyond what’s known

We swirl and rise up, together

I love you. You love me.

We are love.

What remains of the wings torn apart?

Is the pattern eternal? Does it stay

Once created and outlined in pure light,

embroidered on the fabric of reality

with a sparkling golden thread of memory?

Yes, I love you. You love me.

I love you. You love me.

We are love, love, love, love

True love.

 (c) 2020 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Rose Always - A Love Story