My heart calls for travel upon
La nouvelle route de la soie du monde occidental.
Burnt and etched across the dystopian landscape
Set in motion by the American fall – the 16th tarot trump 16 years ago.
Blazing a trail set forth by the blood of my veins –
The Romanichal ancestors whose culture has long been forgotten in my family.
I would be unclean to these ancestors, for as my heart calls to the
Paths across the New Lands, my bed calls for the presence of another Man.
I will be unafraid, as six hearts light my way in the voice of the lady Lenormand,
The Chakano shedding celestial light upon every vignette I glimpse.
The Old Ways are dying, making way for the new.
The Crossroads arise and choices must be made.
I never thought I’d see sixteen again, though now
I can realize it’s power as a coming of age.
But what age am I? Who am I?
*Who is this Flower above me? What is the purpose of this god?
That I know myself in all my parts.*
And my parts lay bare, exposed for all to see,
An offering to the keeper of crossroads, though not given by my choice,
But ripped from me in the process of illumination, elucidation, realization.
I shall live as did the mighty ones, long past and deep within my marrow.
Home shall be the shelter of my own skin,
My medicine shall be the salve of my spirit,
But shall I take flight to run from fata? Or will I embrace her with open arms?
Who am I? A sibyl or a saint? A witch or a warrior? A traveler or a gadjo?
Who is my family? Who shall be at my side?
Shall I unite the salty waters of each ocean in my living?
One coast the birthplace of the reincarnated craft that pulses through my veins.
The mountains of the other coast the birthplace of puri mam and puro da.
What of the sweet waters ‘tween the lakes where my home lies now?
Where does my black heart take me? Where does Spirit lead that I may follow?
Saint Sarah, Black Sara, lead my heart, and pull me in from the thrashing sea
Of my fears and insecurities!
Who have I been? Who am I now?
Who shall I become? Who within myself do I embrace?
Four by Four, the sixteen fold path – this is where I make my home.
Here shall I dance. Here shall I commune with my ancestors past.
Here shall I meet with those that seek my counsel.
Here shall I be who I am, was, and ever shall be.
Speak to me, voices of my ancestors, whispers in my blood!
Guide me through the land of the living from the solace of your resting place
Beyond the Veil.
I am a conjurer. I am a witch. I am a traveler. I am queer.
And I have pride in my roots, and ambition in my branches.
Let me grow towards the stars and the sun.
I very rarely share any of my ramblings such as this. They are usually meant for me, and me alone. They are most often (as this one was) sparked by dreams and the messages passed to me in meditation. This is a piece that marks the start of a calling. I have not edited it, as I wrote it out as it came to me – a petition to those deep within my ancestry that have been speaking more loudly as of late. It is part prayer, part mystery, as much of it took some delineation. My ancestors spoke to me in tongues unknown to me, so I did do a minimal amount of research for the words that were spoken unto me in different languages. (The French was easy, once I got the spelling right. The Romanichal was much more difficult, as this isn’t a language that I’m terribly familiar with.) I used several words that I found in translation, but I’m still not completely certain that I used them within the proper context. Most of what was written was given against the backdrop of conversations in other tongues, and I chose only a handful of the words that I heard in my meditation.
When I receive messages such as this, I spend a great deal of time contemplating and interpreting them. This rambling references two of the predominate forms of divination that I use – Tarot and Petit Lenormand. It’s a call from my ancestors to get my selves in order to get ready for what’s coming for me. I share this in the spirit of transparency, to show how sometimes these messages come forward and give guidance in the form of mystery, of prayer, and poetic verse. This is to share that even when you receive guidance it very rarely is straightforward, and takes some time to digest, especially when you’re receiving it for yourself.
****In my haste and daze from writing this little ditty, I forgot to attribute a part of it properly! Victor Anderson wrote/shared the Flower Prayer which is part of this post – “Who is this flower above me? What is the purpose of this god? That I know myself in all my parts.” I became so wrapped up in examining the implications and the words that poured forward, I completely overlooked giving credit to the proper source! My deepest apologies, and no disrespect meant!*****