Sometimes the only people
Who will ever believe
The story of what has been done to you
Are the people who did it to you
And so, you go through
Years and years of time
With the only people who can
Actually, know you
On and on through
Years of time
Through years
Of shared laughter and celebration
Of dancing and feasting
And stopping cold to
Once again
Navigate your dismay
Years and years of time spent
Looking into half turned smirks
That may or may not exist
Ignoring demeaning words
That definitely do
That dig chasms of anguish
Through the psyche
That can never be replaced
Years of time unfold
Between
The desire to be known
And the longing to loved
Forever divided
Sweet lives lived
Through very real hours of joy
Though
At the pit of it,
In the soul of it
On the heart of it
A treachery
That cannot be undone
Continues doing what
It cannot undo
And should you
Not understand
What these words convey
Be content
To be the lucky one
And save
Your blame
For something
It can heal
***
We ask the Nine of Pentacles:
What do you do with a story you cannot tell?
She answers:
Five of Cups, Ten of Swords, Two of Cups
Grieve it. Yes. But do not spend time thinking you will find a reason why, because you won’t. Divest from those who tell you to prefer the wound by finding that very reason that does not exist. I guarantee such people believe grief is something you drop off at the dump once you are done with it and therefore are not to be trusted.
Betrayal is a matter best handled by the skies of night because the story that cannot be told is, in fact, what makes up the color black. It is this that fills the ink pot, the ink pen, the tattoo gun, the paint in the spray can.
The story that cannot be told requires expression by other forms and in this we meet the self as the other and choose to make union with what will not resolve.
Author of Daydream Tarot: A Basic Guide for Visionaries
Read Michelle’s monthly Tarot column in ANTIGRAVITY
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