Opening this post to see The Queen of Heaven made my jaw drop, because I dreamed of Ishtar last night and had just finished a Wikipedia dive on her. I had known the name but little about her. In the dream she’s Egyptian, in repose in an open coffin in an L configuration with a similar coffin holding Set (to whom I’ve felt little connection until now as well) at her feet. I gift her an emblem of a winged scarab, which I place at her neck, and similarly gift Set a tiny pink rose encased in glass. Then I sleep beside her coffin, with my head at her feet and my feet at her head, because it feels like she’s not really dead-dead but only sleeping, and to perfectly align myself with her would destroy me. Anyway, thank you for the synchronicity, which I’ll be exploring in greater depth.
I loved reading this. The way my Queen threads through my own life is mysterious and humbling, in dreams and in liminal states and times. She’s always there, and always has been.
It seems as if you're writing from inside the longing, not from the place of having found or lost, but from the movement toward. "I cannot hold you" is just a fact. The beloved keeps slipping, and still the walking continues.
I've been thinking about this idea of an essential kernel we're all, always, trying to catch sight of. Your writing feels like that something that can't quite be grasped, only followed or searched for. Today I was writing my own piece about stepping back from that feeling, wondering if I'll ever catch it or those words again. Different parts of the same path, I think.
This is beautifully put - thank you. And yes, I do aim for my poetry to speak of ungraspable things. As Kabir says: When the Guest is being searched for, it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that does all the work.
I love it and I WILL have to get the collection. I think I know this Queen of Heaven through my work - my life - as well. It's fallen out of fashion these days, but she has much in common with rubber l Robert Graves White Goddess, or even (my favourite version I think) the Queen Under The Hill, from Robert Duncan's "Often I am permitted to return to a meadow"... I'm not telling you anything YOU don't know, but maybe leaving the breadcrumb-trail for others who follow...
Opening this post to see The Queen of Heaven made my jaw drop, because I dreamed of Ishtar last night and had just finished a Wikipedia dive on her. I had known the name but little about her. In the dream she’s Egyptian, in repose in an open coffin in an L configuration with a similar coffin holding Set (to whom I’ve felt little connection until now as well) at her feet. I gift her an emblem of a winged scarab, which I place at her neck, and similarly gift Set a tiny pink rose encased in glass. Then I sleep beside her coffin, with my head at her feet and my feet at her head, because it feels like she’s not really dead-dead but only sleeping, and to perfectly align myself with her would destroy me. Anyway, thank you for the synchronicity, which I’ll be exploring in greater depth.
I loved reading this. The way my Queen threads through my own life is mysterious and humbling, in dreams and in liminal states and times. She’s always there, and always has been.
I’m glad. It’s the same knowing for me, with my King.
It seems as if you're writing from inside the longing, not from the place of having found or lost, but from the movement toward. "I cannot hold you" is just a fact. The beloved keeps slipping, and still the walking continues.
I've been thinking about this idea of an essential kernel we're all, always, trying to catch sight of. Your writing feels like that something that can't quite be grasped, only followed or searched for. Today I was writing my own piece about stepping back from that feeling, wondering if I'll ever catch it or those words again. Different parts of the same path, I think.
This is beautifully put - thank you. And yes, I do aim for my poetry to speak of ungraspable things. As Kabir says: When the Guest is being searched for, it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that does all the work.
Of course! ‘the sprout is hidden in the seed’ funny how contemporary the 15th century can feel. The search is a form of meeting…
I love it and I WILL have to get the collection. I think I know this Queen of Heaven through my work - my life - as well. It's fallen out of fashion these days, but she has much in common with rubber l Robert Graves White Goddess, or even (my favourite version I think) the Queen Under The Hill, from Robert Duncan's "Often I am permitted to return to a meadow"... I'm not telling you anything YOU don't know, but maybe leaving the breadcrumb-trail for others who follow...
There must be a catalogue somewhere of all the different names she’s been given/has assumed throughout history!!
Puts me mind of a piece I just read recently, about the "Infinite Names of God" in Jewish mysticism! Like that, but maybe with less gematria...
("rubber I" in there is an artifact of half dozing autocorrect....not a comment on malleable subjectivity!)
The searching and longing and all devotion to the Beloved.
This is lovely work
Thanks Lois 💫
Utterly riveted by this poem, and your description of why you wrote Queen of Heaven. Totally ordering this gorgeous volume. Thank you.
Thanks for these words, Michelle. Writing about the why felt like quite a risk, but the writing has resonated with more people than I expected!
This piece takes me into a remembrance...to nourish the seed of devotion in my heart again this morning...thank you...
I have read a lot of your poetry and I must say I particularly enjoyed this piece. Thank you for sharing.