My Death Card Year
This eclipse season was hard. Then again, perhaps that’s growth as I’ve been monitoring my emotions during eclipses for the past few years, and never noticed a difference in the "energy” that all my favorite astrologers and witches described. This year there were indeed sudden endings and beginnings.
“Magic is shifting consciousness at will.” — Starhawk
I needed to do this after an activating encounter on the eclipse.
Although I know eclipse energy is chaotic, I felt inspired to create my own spell which I performed in the woods by rushing water. I’ve performed anger releasing spells in this same spot over the years. Power had accumulated there.
I don’t want to share too many details about it, but it involved white roses and my embodied connection to them. In the Rider Waite Death Tarot card, a white rose blooms on Death’s black flag signifying the transformation Death can bring.
White roses bloomed on my desk as I wrote the title poem of my book Samsara. Writing this poem was like dreaming with my eyes open.
Samsara
The butcher wraps the stars in newspaper
The young woman offers her breast through prison bars
How many have sailed beneath this shuddering arc?
Maybe the nomads have welcomed the children into the ocean
Last prediction of aborted clarion
Mouthing serpents
My belly dreams a buoy
Worshipping, that’s the most potent
You’ll find a chirping stone that won’t shut up
Stoke the pollen, burnish the constellations
My tongue fevers yours into
A boat looks away, blushing
It’s sunny in the angel brains
The babies of the dead have had their incubators turned on