This entry is part 15 of 21 in the series Poems based on Tarot

Photo Credit: Pixabay

For our fifteenth post we have another Major Arcana card, the zero card at the beginning of the deck, the Fool. It refers to the start of adventurous possibilities, our start of something for which we have no experience and the start of our own path in the world. 


In my country, this is almost like when we leave our parents house to go to school, or to start a career. We stumble blindly for a while eager and excited, not sure yet what to be afraid of, or what to avoid, or what we really want at the end of it all. In this bold stage we venture forth and blindly pursue what it is we want and what we think we should do. For the most part we aren’t considering any outcomes of our actions, or whom they might hurt, or what they might mean for us personally; we just embark.


This is the essence of the fool, and it could lead to tragedy, or lady luck might smile on us and everything pans out perfectly. When you are older in life, you can look back and see many such instances where blind will and passion drove you forward. You might regret how it ended a friendship, or how it caused a lot of trouble for others you never foresaw, or you might wonder at the bravery that you no longer seem to have. You might regret your past ignorance, or callousness, or marvel at your audacity and vibrancy; but that all comes later in retrospect and through wisdom.  For the here and now, you are attempting something new and you go willingly into it, someone else can worry about the details.


0 – The Fool – March 4, 2019


Photo Credit: antonzsandor

You told me to sing so I did
To a crowd of strangers
My green interpretation of Crazy Love
To your confident piano
In my enrapt ecstasy
Never observing
The lusting eyes of the enamoured
The jealous indignation of the choir
Or the love flowing in your flittering fingers.


I led a group in a religious dance
Rehearsed for months
And in my nervous execution
Rewrote the entire routine
Again mostly unaware of the groups
Panicking eyes
Glued to me for a hint of the next phase
For what misplaced set
I was about to assume
Was the next to perform.


I land in a foreign country
Nervously fumbling for an address
On a small slip of paper
Unable to pronounce what it might say
Hoping not to be taken astray
Not to be cheated, or worse
Watching the new land out the window
For a hint of something familiar
That I suspect I might
Be expecting to see.


I fumble headlong into adventure
With daring and faith
Hoping for blind luck to
Navigate the pitfalls
Mildly aware
That sometimes the next corner
Is a truck on fire on a single lane road
A gun man running from a crime
A rampaging monkey clutching for anything shiny
And still, I make the turn.

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