V. H. King's Ink

Aside: A friend of mine recently asked for my thoughts on a spread they’d pulled: The High Priestess, The Chariot, and the 9 of Cups. Not for the first time, a poem spilled out rather than a streamlined interpretation—or maybe it’s both, depending on how you read it.

I guess that’s the point, right?

Prepare (for) the Overflow

there will be more 
than what you can hold. 
ready your cups. 
let it out. 

dump a bucket 
into the sea. 
feel it coming:

some surge, a fast-deep 
something reminiscent 
of old fractures: reset 
bones become tender
for their having broken 

once before. now, this undertow: 
are you the cart? the horse? 
the ground beneath?
where have you placed 
your feet?

are you the sail? the wind? 
the swell? the shallows? 
how do you remember
to breathe?

it's going to feel 
like everything. 
it will be too much 
to swallow.

spit it up.

let it out. 
let it out.
let it out. 

move and dance 
stretch and reach 
speak and scream

and you will breathe 
again. you will 
breathe, and you 
will be.