their dreams were wisps of smoke
they prayed for rain
through the understated mahogany of the trees
the dotted stars faded in the morning
but the wisp prayers still hung in the air
unable to be blown away in new gusts of wind
only the softly falling drops that finally came three months later
finally washed away the answered prayers
like salt being washed from a wound
the cleansing rain awoke a new dream
this time reflected in puddles that would last until the rain stopped
and the new dreams echoed into the sky
with the rays of the sun.
Tag: healing
stillness
stillness halts and lingers
ignoring the fantasy of truth
ignoring the framework of deception
and puts me on my guard
I cancel the stillness with an obscene amount of mental motion
my stillness feels like boredom
so I break its bonds
and think I’ve found freedom
but until stillness can be still
fleeing it only leads to an illusion of freedom
a sticky web of the subconscious
that knows what it wants but keeps forgetting
simple steps
be still everywhere
except your breath
be still-breath-be free
Be free of ugliness
of never ending cyclical motion
let stillness linger
find freedom
Shrapnel 2
On paper and in person she was as small as a mouse
and still she tried to make herself smaller
She wished to shrink to a speck of stardust
infinitely small
but also imbued with powers contained
in the nascent universe inside her
One day she went into her mind
and did not come back out again
Instead she became stardust.
Her dream of becoming a speck came true
But that was not the end of her story…..
She became a seed planted in a new place
and all that there was left to do
was to expand.
She sang the body electric
She became the stars
and her own new multiverse under her own terms
Like shrapnel exploding
she exploded into the biggest planet
anyone had ever seen
Her power was compassion
and no one could ever make her feel small again
We are all made of stars.
shrapnel number 1
The strength of weighted words
measured for resonance
and chosen for impact
hit their mark
the armor did not hold
and the sting became a wound
where these words pierced her
It wasn’t so much that she was called a name
it was whose voice was used as the weapon
to deliver this name that became the bullet
now she spends the wee hours
picking out shrapnel
which she is forming into bullets of her own
the map
my heavy heart
is swift of foot
but somehow lies dormant
under red sands
and marbled skies
for many many sunsets
fried over
it’s hard to recognize
the scars
after they bake
in the sun
for years and years
one scar bleeds
into the next
until they form
a picture
if you examine
the picture
at different angles
it’s both a secret symbol
and
a
map
a map
back down
to where
the sources
of scars
lie buried
in the sand
shattered owl
shattered owl why do you weep so sweetly
attend to your broken feathers
that stick out like shards
waiting to cut
the next one to come near you
let your sorrow seep out slowly
not in a gust of words without mindfulness or compassion
or without kind attention to the strength of their candor
concatenated tears can be beautiful prisms in the moonlight
once you see the beauty in them
use their strength to heal your mournful yowl
there is strength in tears
but
pain does not need to be our proverb
Weekly Reading – July 18, 2021
The Page of Swords – A Key to Innovation

This week in one of my personal readings I drew the Page of Swords using the Tarot of the Divine. This card can be the harbinger of new ideas coming from a place of wit and optimism. The story behind the card in the Tarot of the Divine is that of Princess Parizade – an Arabic folktale.
A quick summary of the story is that Princess Parizade and her two brothers were set adrift on the river by their mother’s jealous sisters. A royal gardener raised them, but one day passed away and they weren’t sure who would care for them. One day Parizade was kind to an old woman who let her know about three magical objects at the top of a mountain. In order to reach the top of the mountain they would have to ignore the taunts of spirits, for if they didn’t they would be turned to stone and never reach the top. The two brothers insisted on going on the journey without Parizade, but they were unable to ignore the taunts and turned to stone. Parizade tried next. Using all of her courage and her own “Medicine”, or ideas, she decide to stick wax in her ears so she could not hear the taunts – she climbed the mountain and as the taunts came she laughed at them. She reached the top of the mountain and received the three magic objects that allowed her to heal her brothers, heal the Gardner’s garden, and discover their true lineage and return them to the home of the Sultan. It was then that they were reunited with their mother.
I decided to pull some cards from one of my favorite Oracles – the Literary Witches Oracle – to understand the page of swords further, and what I needed to unlock it. I pulled Maria Sabina who knew a thing or two about healing medicine. She was a powerful shamanic healer who used psilocybin as part of her medicine, as well as the power of her poetry. She lived in the mountains of southern Mexico.
I find it interesting that I pulled an “old woman” from a mountain with a magical story to help understand this since that’s exactly what happened in the story. Even more interesting that it emphasizes non-traditional medicine and healing a key to unlocking your own innovation.
This week I encourage you to use your own non-traditional medicine, what ever that may be, to find keys to innovation. Maybe its innovation in your own healing process, maybe its innovation in how to help others heal. Maybe its storytelling and poetry as medicine that unlocks new ideas for you.
Whatever that is trust that medicine, and you will find your own magic objects at the top of your own mountain.


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