Tarot

Card from The Wildwood Tarot.

Your name is passed around in tarot circles.

Sometimes it sounds too casual on the surface, but there's a hint of telling a secret underneath.

Late-night talks at kitchen tables. Hot cups of coffee. "Did you know divination is in Her domain? You can call on Her for guidance in a reading."

Sometimes it is so very formal. Higher ritual than the pouring of coffee. Candles lit in proper order. Prayers recited, epithets and all. Three cards laid out. Maybe this time it is nine. "Make an offering, ask for Her blessings, and be ready to confront your deepest fears and insecurities when you turn the cards over. She will heal you. It may hurt at first, but She will heal you."

Our cards whisper Your name when we shuffle them. 

Still, I wonder...

The cards didn't exist when it was written that You have power in divination. Was it sheep knuckles? Water scrying? Fire scrying? Lithomancy? And does it mean You don't care what our cards tell us? 

Oh, but You weren't closed in a dusty tome in some museum, unaware of how the world changed! You were there when the cards were different. You were there when kings and queens commissioned cards to be painted just for them. You were there when royal whims shifted and cards were forbidden. You were there when Pixie painted Waite's deck. You were there when Lady Frieda drew Crowley's cards.

I accept I'll never know for sure. And then You wink at me from a card. Stone of the Underworld. Red snake. White tree. Black snake. How do you distribute three evenly? One on each side of the middle.