National Poetry Month: 30-Day Tarot Poem for April

If you’ve been following me on Instagram or Facebook, you’ve probably seen my daily post for #the30DayPoem hosted by Over the Moon Academy (@otm_academy) for National Poetry Month.

Somehow, I think the cards knew I was creating a poem because I drew a lot majors and cards in the cups suit, which I would consider the more traditonally poetic images of the deck. In some ways this made it difficult because the writing gained in intensity day after day. Half way through the month, I totally resigned myself to (and relished in) the drama of it. After all, I was using the MAAT Tarot deck — every card is an entire story — so what did I expect?

As promised, this is the completed poem:

MAAT Tarot by Julia Cuccia-Watts

Justice in the End

Deep night’s bouquet of hallucinations
Swirl sybelline roots of a wet
winter tree
While behind this battle mirror-mask (bright rainbow ribbons!)
the trampled vine climbs….
Seed bead strands weigh stems in sunfields’
drylight, waiting
for a crafter’s sleight.

Cut me to the bone,
I’ll go on living by the sword. Fight me
with fire and I’ll heal; I’ll burn up my inner
waters with your fear. Magic bundles inside the soft earth below,
from above — spinning on our skywheel sphere — and around and around
we go.

Hearthfires
beneath plant-strewn mantles,
full stew mugs and four corners
swept with familiar breath.
Hoping,
landed and sunk — stepping up — poured out — stretched inside doubt —
Dualling.
Drunk. Finally the lies
stop light as the wind’s pfft when pink feathered petals
drop.

Light is the Time in our hourglass guide.
Wholeness wrapped up, decorated in Her ebb and flow of tides, in blocks
fully burrowed bodies, locked
Alive
in kaleidoscopic prisms dancing
in the irises of our eyes. Why do I see
rampant April rapeseed, not

wishing dandelions?

Even at the stillest
well’s bottom lies the loot of past lives, maurading through memory’s murky mirrored dives.
The past taught me I must watch
you watch me
leaving you behind. Uprooted,
Struck hollow by lava sunsets in the wild
Fire Forest. Pride
Lost and laid to fallow, facing forward, looking up. Step through to

The Other Side.

The sleeping peacemaker waits hidden
within. She pours
below the break between
the Right and Left
hands. Flight beneath the overgrown
rose forest’s glow
with attention
to intention
for ascension. Wake

the Green Man before he sinks
into the shadows, turning back — but
the ageless Mother sees all

on the path Home

beyond the garden wall where She swings a sweet fruit rosary from Her sweeping ruby sun-stamped skirt.

Let the artist work.

Let the artist work.

Let the artist work.

Let death’s drumming
fill the room red with bullish rhythm. Let

Go.

Truth and its Great Balance is
unmade

by a heavy heart.

If you’re interested, I’ve listed the individual lines below with the daily draws and dates:

Deep night’s bouquet of hallucinations (9 of Swords, April 1st)
Swirl sybelline roots of a wet winter tree (High Priestess, April 2nd)
While behind this battle mirror-mask (bright rainbow ribbons!) the trampled vine climbs…. (Prince of Cups, April 3rd)
Seed bead strands weigh stems in sunfields’ drylight, waiting for a crafter’s sleight (The Hanged One, April 4th)
Cut me to the bone, I’ll go on living by the sword. (4 of Swords, April 5th)
Fight me with fire and I’ll heal; I’ll burn up my inner waters with your fear. (Ace of Wands, April 6th)
Magic bundles inside the soft earth below, from above. (The Magician, April 7th). Spinning the skywheel sphere — and around and around we go. (Wheel of Fortune, April 8th).
Hearthfires beneath plant-strewn mantles, full stew mugs, and four corners swept with familiar breath. (Queen of Pentacles, April 9th). Hoping, landed and sunk — stepping up — poured out — stretched inside doubt —
Dualling. Drunk. (The Star, April 10th) Finally the lies stop light as the wind’s pfft when pink feathered petals drop. (5 of Cups, April 11th).
Light is the Time in our hourglass guide. (The Hermit, April 12th).
Wholeness wrapped up, decorated in Her ebb and flow of tides. (The World, April 13th)
In blocks, fully burrowed bodies, locked. (8 of Coins, April 14th)
Alive in kaleidoscopic prisms dancing in the irises of our eyes. (10 of Cups, April 15th)
Why do I see rampant April rapeseed, not wishing dandelions? (9 of Cups, April 16th). Even at the stillest well’s bottom lies the loot of past lives, maurading through memory’s murky mirrored dives. (7 of Cups, April 17th)
The past taught me I must watch you watch me leaving you behind. (6 of Swords, April 18th).
Uprooted, struck hollow by lava sunsets in the wildfire forest. (The Tower Reversed, April 19th).
Pride lost and laid to fallow, facing forward, looking up. (Ace of Coins, April 20th)
Step through to the other side. (2 of Wands, April 21st).
The sleeping peacemaker waits hidden within. (9 of Wands, April 22nd)
She pours below the break between the right and left hands. (Temperance, April 23rd)
Flight beneath the overgrown rose forest’s glow with attention to intention for ascension. (8 of Cups, April 24th)
Wake the Green Man before he sinks into the shadows. (The Emperor, April 25th)
Turning back — but the ageless mother sees all on the path Home. (Princess of Coins, April 26th)
Beyond the garden wall where She swings a sweet fruit rosary from Her sweeping ruby sun-stamped skirt. (9 of Coins, April 27th)
Let the artist work. Let the artist work. Let the artist work. (3 of Coins, April 28th) Let death’s drumming fill the room red with bullish rhythm. Let go. (Death, April 29th)
Truth and its Great Balance is unmade
by a heavy heart. (Justice Reversed, April 30th)

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