The Hermit from Lewellyn’s Classic Tarot inspired two poems, which kind of makes up for me missing a day of posting and writing. Kind of. (Click here to see the card.)
Here’s the first…
questions still haunt us, an old man
with burning eyes, raging in the dark
swirl of the storm — where is the light
to guide, to offer real or illusory
comfort? madness carries its own
order, a closed system in the chaos
…and the second.
Is it still snowing? What wisdom glimmers
in the swirling gloom, swings wildly
with the tossing wind? What could be
more comforting among these cruel
rocks than sturdy feet and a solid staff?