I was looking at this High Priestess collage the other day. I did it awhile ago, as part of my Egyptian-themed tarot collages, and it’s been hanging in my office since then. But I’ve never had the right poem to pair it with. Of course the Oracle is always attuned to what I’m thinking.
I’ve also been thinking–how could I not be?–about the current attempts of our government to once again deprive women of equal standing with men. Which are of course intimately tied to the destruction of Mother Earth. The High Priestess represents all the parts of women that many men fear–“what lies beyond the veil”. As Rachel Pollack states in her tarot commentary: “Our society, based completely on outer achievement, fosters a terror of the unconscious….The High Priestess represents all these qualities: darkness, mystery, psychic forces, the power of the moon to stir the unconscious, passivity, and the wisdom gained from it.”
As always, the Oracle knows.
I could rest between the moon
and this long wandering path
with rootforest rainlight
songs seeding the wind
do we grow only quiet
as our seasons leave us?
come she said–
follow my secrets
breathe into always
emerging from fire and flood
not with wings, risen from ashes,
but immersed in suspended time–
inside out upside down
to reverse is not to return
to surrender is not to admit defeat
to be still is not to remain forever bound
Sarah at dVerse has given us the word ash for our quadrille this week. The story she told of Odin hanging from the World Tree to gain wisdom made me think of The Hanged Man card from the tarot. I’ve seen it referred to as The Hanged One in several places, and I like that name better.
Continuing my series of tarot inspired collages using Egyptian figures, I put this together quickly, using a funerary figure and the doorway the dead are said to walk through. I usually spend days doing them, so I’m sure it will end up being revised since I’m not quite satisfied with it.
where does the body lie?
a prisoner of gravity,
it remains forever outside of dreams
unfit for the spiritship,
a vessel of startled complexity–
open, unbounded, secret, extreme
I wrote the original version (much revised) of the above 42 poem at the same time I wrote my haibun, Unattached, which is published on The Ekphrastic Review today, along with Jane’s lyrical poem, Bronze Dreams, and other varied responses to Frida Kahlo’s painting, The Dream.
My collage is once again based on a tarot card, this the the Four of Swords. Kahlo’s paining reminded me very much of the iconic Rider-Waite card, but my own interpretation drifts in between the card and the painting. I could not find out if Kahlo ever studied tarot, but she was friends with many of the Surrealists, who certainly played with its symbolism. The Four of Swords is a card of restoration and healing, just like Frida’s Dream.
I placed a photo of the interior of an Egyptian sarcophagus in the sky. The figure painted there is the sky goddess Nut, who “spreads out her arms protectively to receive the deceased. (s)He is sheltered by her, is adsorbed into her body, and emerges reborn” (Rose-Marie and Rainer Hagen, “Egypt”).
You can read my poem (and Jane’s) here. My thanks once again to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for supporting my work and the interaction between the visual and written arts.
are you divining
the moon? Lunatic
they call you
on the verge
A lune poem from 2016 for tonight’s full moon.
…and continuing the year’s end of fools. My collage is also a Fool Tarot Card, Zero. Where we need to start for 2021.
raise me up
with words with singing
shout me out
pull me free
of the faceless gravity
to a calmer sea
star skies opening wing-filled
give to me
a landing some place
when I call from where I wait
I once had an idea to do my own set of collage Tarot cards. I started with zero, The Fool, which I’ve done a number of times since. Over the years I’ve also done a few others–The Tower, the Ace of Cups. This moment in time seems to me to call out for The Star, the beacon of renewal, hope, and faith that follows the disintegrating Tower in the Tarot deck.
My windows face east, and in the clear early mornings I can see Venus. The other day, next to her, the half moon shone large and bright over the silhouettes of the buildings across the subway tracks, both anchor and comfort in a world increasingly restricted and isolated.
Linked to dVerse OLN, hosted by Grace.