The Star (XVII)
(Smith-Waite Tarot )
It’s been said
a shower is better
than a bath,
when one wants to wash away
shame and depression,
but you disagree
as you slowly
submerge one foot
into the cool forgiving water.
Afraid to pollute
what is a new beginning,
you keep the other foot
firmly planted on the earth,
and watch your image
pale, naked, and melancholy,
shimmer and ripple out
into the universe
that is the water,
which welcomes your tears,
and cleanses your memory
of grief, regret,
and those things
you always wanted to say,
but never made it
past the confines
of your lips.
This is the time
to whisper
your secrets
into the wind,
which will carry them
to the stars,
your real family,
so far away—
they’ll always love you,
no matter what.
Saint Sinéad
I have a universe inside me… Sinéad O’Connor
I.
1990.
As I drove from Kansas City
through hundreds of miles
of rocks and desert,
your voice glided through me
as I travelled through
the searing September heat.
I listened to your stories
of pain, anger, and lost babes;
how you could still taste and smell
their tender, ephemeral limbs.
All of this became part of my story,
since my cassette tape
of i do not want what I haven’t got,
became permanently lodged
in the tape player.
It was a time in my life
where I was alone
but not lonely,
and I shared it with you.
II.
2,000.
This was the year
I toiled for change,
and the love of a gaslighter
who continually kept me
on the verge
of second guessing myself.
For every six out
of seven summer nights,
I’d walk home from
my shitty waitress job,
a portable CD player in my purse,
headphones on my head,
and listen to you sing
about the universe inside you
filled with your other selves;
an independent woman
who called out those
who condemned you
to be alone,
the priestess who strove
since girlhood,
for celestial connection,
and the soul who longed
for another to recognise,
and reverence the totality
of what real love can be.
You gave me courage
to walk away from
the slave wage gigs,
low self esteem,
and the abuser
who utilized love
as a cudgel.
Your voice led me
to share my poems
and use my voice
to speak truth to power.
III.
2023.
I’m on the phone
with a client
who has no idea
of my story,
when I see the news
that you’ve gone—
and it’s all
there again,
the raw beauty of you,
the voice I turn to
in the dark,
the heartache and elation
you make me feel,
and I wonder
how will everyone
whose lives you saved
go on without you.
The universe inside me
contains all the good things
you gifted me,
a healing room
of my own making,
to hear you share
your bardic tales,
and hold you close
in remembrance
and gratitude.
"Act passionately; think rationally; be Thyself." - Liber Librae
The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter -- often an unconscious, but still a truthful interpreter -- in the eye. - Charlotte Bronte
Marie C Lecrivain is a poet, publisher, and curator of two literary blogs: Dashboard Horus: A Bird’s Eye of the Universe (travel themed poetry and art), and Al-Khemia Poetica: A Women’s Art and Literary Journal. Her work has been published in California Quarterly, Chiron Review, Gargoyle, Nonbinary Review, Orbis, Pirene's Fountain, and many other journals. She's the author of several books of poetry and fiction, and editor of Ashes to Stardust: A David Bowie Tribute Anthology (2023 Sybaritic Press, www.sybpress.com).
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