Quiet Baptism by Fire

Art by Lucy B Campbell Gallery

Revolution begins and ends in the dark corridors of heavy hearts. Out past the breaking point of loss and great griefs, beyond despairing resignation to currents and conditions. Sparked at the tiny cardiac altar when hope flickers low, craving a gust of wind or a strike of lightning to raise its flames to crackling.

Our yearning for change prevents its extinguising. Our heart's steady call beats its tiny drum and sings to other organs of creation and imagination. Neither heart nor flame survive untended. All our heady talk of soul and sinew dies without a beat behind it.

The French word for heart is the root of courage. Arising in the face of fear and impossible odds, it raises its lionhead like a sunflower turned towards bright sustenance. We dig deeper. Marry our magics to mayhem and place our trust in the might of many, joining forces.

As the world turns and burns, drowns and resurfaces, howls and chants and moans, the stars align. Fate and destiny rush down the heart's corridoor towards the light our eyes fear staring into. Deep in the doldrums of a dying age we have barely survived, arrives a canny cazimi. Its rebirthing chime can be imperceptible but that does not nullify its ringing intent. Or its unassailable power.

As Jupiter passes through the heart of the Sun in Pisces, his baptism by fire delivers miracles. Look for them. Expand your frame to see their golden echo beaming all around you. Your angels have not abandoned you, not now.

As you survey your ground zero, what your focus lands on enlarges to fill this world remaking itself anew. Gratitude is a blessing and honours all you have saved. Doom and gloom is a curse all of its own that eases nothing. Hope is the thing with feathers that brushes softly by your heart.

The key to the future lies in your hand, as much as theirs. And today, it glimmers in the light and leaves its faint imprint on your palm.


Words c. Kerrie Basha 2022