praying to the Black Madonnas
|Love found me under a summer sky
a full moon pulsing in the dark.
I leave my bed and go to the window
and grow still to hear
whispering through the palms
the stories and prayers
my grandmothers offered
to their Black Madonnas,
Czestochowa and Bistrica,
I humbly set my petitions
to Guadalupe, Mother of the Americas
for the migrants in camps
asking for respite, for change, for justice.
We are all immigrant souls.
Love found me under a summer sky.