there is a longing within me
for something that is not there
from staring too long at my life up to now
feeding off autumn’s cold regret and despair
i went to seek some answers
outside of this spiritual realm
because that is where this shadow lurks
with my third eye at its helm
so i held up my hands to the palm reader
turned them slowly to bare to her
she narrowed her eyes suspiciously saying
darling, you’re a raconteur
she traced their lines and pressed them down
tendons, nervous and unyielding
afraid she might look too close at the whorls
and see the ugliness of my feelings
but instead she gazed at me and said
to use my power for good
she said that if i wanted something, i would get it
but that doesn’t mean i should
where does my power come from?
and more importantly, what is it?
i want to know, or maybe i already do
and i’m just reluctant to admit it
because when i salt my doorways
against all who wish me ill
when i cedar sage my bedroom
their evil lives on in me still
it lures me with carnelian sunsets
it smells like late summer rain
it tries to steal me away from new opportunity
it begs me to let it into my house again
so i dug out my old tarot deck
thinking maybe i was cursed
and i sat on my porch offended
when i pulled the fool reversed
they mean that it is stupid
to break my neck while looking back
and to navigate my current waters
over naively drowning in the black
it whispers that i could be different
and that the seasons will never change
and though insecurity has never served me
confrontation has still not been arranged
displaced yearning, i’ve decided to call it
but maybe it's an eloquent sham
or just to cover for the life i want
over the disappointment of what i am
