Home Literary Studies La Divina Pastora, Mother of Miracles
Chapter
Licensed
Unlicensed Requires Authentication

La Divina Pastora, Mother of Miracles

View more publications by Yale University Press
What Noise Against the Cane
This chapter is in the book What Noise Against the Cane
40plenty notes come from dem ship flyin dey sail and country flag high high like cobo wing. Longtime, La Divina Pastora, Mother of MiraclesWe cast down our burdens at the feet of the Black Mother us of myriad stripes hindu and catholic junctioned by her body here in the southwest of Trinidad. La Divina Pastoraof disputed origin like all women blessed or caught in the latitudesof conquest and myth. Once a girl who grew to a woman before nightfall. Once a statue sprung from soil of cacao. Patron Saint of Siparia gowned in white and gold bestowing us with sight or husbands or whateverwe ask. We ask day in and out sweaty pilgrims with our hard won knots our battered backs our tears and haberdashery. Madonna Murti speaks to me through her burglar proofglass and in the creep of memory I lock the bedroom door against the handyman’s routine gaze. I shield my pubescent body. She too Bailey_Printer.indd 40Bailey_Printer.indd 4012/10/20 1:47 PM12/10/20 1:47 PM
© Yale University Press, New Haven

40plenty notes come from dem ship flyin dey sail and country flag high high like cobo wing. Longtime, La Divina Pastora, Mother of MiraclesWe cast down our burdens at the feet of the Black Mother us of myriad stripes hindu and catholic junctioned by her body here in the southwest of Trinidad. La Divina Pastoraof disputed origin like all women blessed or caught in the latitudesof conquest and myth. Once a girl who grew to a woman before nightfall. Once a statue sprung from soil of cacao. Patron Saint of Siparia gowned in white and gold bestowing us with sight or husbands or whateverwe ask. We ask day in and out sweaty pilgrims with our hard won knots our battered backs our tears and haberdashery. Madonna Murti speaks to me through her burglar proofglass and in the creep of memory I lock the bedroom door against the handyman’s routine gaze. I shield my pubescent body. She too Bailey_Printer.indd 40Bailey_Printer.indd 4012/10/20 1:47 PM12/10/20 1:47 PM
© Yale University Press, New Haven
Downloaded on 23.9.2025 from https://www.degruyterbrill.com/document/doi/10.12987/9780300259872-006/html?srsltid=AfmBOoqaHI9m_VWtMwCjPtPG8NtvnwZ5vPjQnetceRfJh3Dp0Yf31erA
Scroll to top button