I’m a cursed Gypsy

Without the convictions

Of my predictions

Life would be a hell of a lot happier

If we could foresee

Consequences accurately

And make the proper choices


In years past

Presiding over a deck of cards

Adding to the colorful silk diklo

Spread across grass or shag carpet

Or on a scarred kitchen table

Able to say

With authority

This and this and this

Will be

You must do that and that and that

In order to be happy

To be the best

And find the truest outcome

In life

At least for this month

Of questioning


So sure was I

So right

Most nights

Dispensing fortunes


To the aethers

And the anxious ears of others


Only one time did I lie

Reading for a young nursing student

A line of cards that never appeared

In all my years of tarot

A terror of all fourteen Swords

Every one

As if from a newly unshuffled deck

Appearing with every undesirable card

My face, an autistically truthful face

Unable to hide my horror

“What?” she screamed


Oh, suicide, so sure


Why did I lie

Why did I let her through the door

I knew, she suspected

But I was intent on

Smoothing life over

When I should have begged her

To seek professional help

I failed her and said,

“Rough days, they will pass”

Although she was a stranger

And I never saw her again

I’m sure those rough days

Did pass

I’m sure she passed

I missed my chance

To truly help


“Do no harm”

My Gran said

When teaching me

The life of a drabarni

A healer

And that is why I chose

To do no harm

By doing nothing

By rejecting who I am

Who I could have been…


© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)



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