a gypsy fortuneteller’s breath
hangs heavy in the silence
as she mysteriously draws the inverted Hang Man Tarot Card

mind swims in endless circles
as a tight hold drowning current strangles the ‘still small voice’
this pure voice seeks only to cheer loud praises
pour salve of accolades over scorched souls

the gypsy reads my broken aura
the scars of my wounded shell

heavy 9-5 burdens plus over-time & all the over-time have to’s

she looks far away and mumbles
curses befall everyone even the rich and famous

she confirms the fallacy of the charmed can do no wrong
and states strongly privilege looks good from the outside

there’s a long pause as she draws another card
placing the card back into the deck she states
no one escapes the “Vale of Tears”

along the journey patches of hope seem to ease bruises
affirmations
guide & blanket & dress the wounds

as the constant not variable Witness
hushes the curses over there somewhere
                                                                and for the time being
the heart’s constant ache
appears to disappear