Sunday, March 11, 2012

The Stone Baby

Blessed Saint Creola appears in a village where, they say,
A woman has borne a stone baby.

No suitable bassinet can be found, and so the stone baby is placed
In a wheelbarrow. Religious graffiti soon covers it.

The mother is unhappy. Her baby does not have babysoft skin.
He does not smell nice. He seems to belong in a quarry.

Driven mad by having to lift her baby with a hoist, she takes him to bathe
In the lake near Saint Creola's shrine, but of course,

He sinks immediately to the bottom. A tow truck hauls him out
On the end of a good sturdy chain; the good news is

That the stone baby has no injuries. No skinned knee, no
scraped elbow. Still, he cannot play with the other children

Out of fear that he will will topple over on them. Sitting by himself,
He is accosted by the village bully, who hits him, breaking his own hand.

"Beautiful Saint Creola," cries the mother. "I have given birth to a
Cannon ball. His own weight breaks his bed. What can we do?"

It is said by those who were there, that the lovely and holy Saint Creola
Took up the stone child in her slender arms, and prayed over him,

Turning him to a cloud, which disappeared into the open blue sky.
In time, the child's mother gave birth to numerous birds,

Unmatched in the perfection of both their feathers and their souls;
"Behold, I give you sisters to bear your spirit up to God," spoke the mother.

It is another miracle of the celebrated Saint Creola...
Birds and brother, wheeling upon the very countenance of the Divine.
______
for Ella's mini challenge at Real Toads. 

23 comments:

Mama Zen said...

"Unmatched in the perfection of both their feathers and their souls"

That is beautiful.

Ella said...

Gasp, I love it~ I love the mythical magic that evolves in the soul of clouds and feathers~ I have to read it again! Bravo~

WinterWrites said...

A beautiful story poem

hedgewitch said...

I don't know how you do this, combine your satanic wit with such heavenly feathers and black humor with such cloud-painting light, but do it you certainly do, every time. I light a bit of pansy incense to the generous and transcendent St. Creola. I love it all, so will spare you the million quotes I'd like to do.

Susie Clevenger said...

There is such beauty in this..the mythical story which leaves me with a feeling of hope..my soul a stone shall have wings......

Kay L. Davies said...

This is wonderful, Shay. I love it. Dare I even say I love the way your mind works?
K

Mary said...

Wow, wow, wow! You have outdone yourself here. I am speechless in admiration.

HermanTurnip said...

Fantastic piece!

One question: Who is the father? I have a feeling a medical checkup is warranted. That there's some bad seed...

Lolamouse said...

Herman: The daddy is some guy named "Rocky." (boo, hiss...)

You know I love me some St. Creola!

TALON said...

I loved this, Shay, and I loved that last stanza.

myheartslovesongs said...

you need to donate your brain to science, FB, so they can figure out how a human head could hold so much imagination... this is brilliant, stunning, beautiful, strange, saintly! {you can wait to donate until after you've passed.}

myheartslovesongs said...

you need to donate your brain to science, FB, so they can figure out how a human head could hold so much imagination... this is brilliant, stunning, beautiful, strange, saintly! {you can wait to donate until after you've passed.}

Lynn said...

Another miracle.

Kerry O'Connor said...

One of the things I love about work with a latin American flavour is the blend of mysticism with the divine, and a huge dollop of magical realism, and this piece delivers big time, in that same tradition. Bless St Creola, and her many miracles.

Daryl Edelstein said...

St Creola .. I was trying to come up with something witty .. HA .. like does she come in the 64 box set? See it wasnt very witty ..

nene said...

I agree with Kerry O'Connor in that when one speaks to Latin American culture one can expand upon a magicalness inbedded in the fabric of this culture.

You speak of St. Creola with the type of creative magic of a latina.

Hannah Stephenson said...

Oh, I'm sad for the stone baby, and sad that it had to be changed for it to be loved.

But I love mythology, and in myths things and people get transformed as solutions, and as explanations.

Kim Nelson said...

I am ever-amazed by the creativity that oozes from you, to the page, to the ether, to me. Thank you! Your imagination and ability to share it are gifts.

blueoran said...

These fractured fairy tales of St. Creola are a genre unto themselves, really great stuff. Next you need to put up a virtual shrine where we can light votive candles, with some kind of inbox for intercessions ... Maybe you need an admonition that folks who pray for elephants oughtta make sure they have a big back yard -- but then, St. Creola may sing just that next time around. Really love these, FB - B

ellen abbott said...

for some reason I find this very comforting.

Sara said...

How do you do it? You can make poetry whatever you want. It's like molten glass through your pen.

While I love the mystical quality of this Saint Creola poem, I smiled at the fun in this poem. The description of the stone baby and the difficulties made me laugh, especially the line, "I have given birth to a Cannon ball."

But you wrap it up in the mystical of Saint Creola's miracle. That last line is beautiful.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Imagination on steroids. I dont know how you do it, but remain very grateful that you do.

zongrik said...

what pathetic baby doesn't have nice baby skin and makes his mom unhappy

withered wanderer