Have you heard the Red Priestess call?

 

A poem which explores mystical themes linked to the writing process.

From poetry using prose to who knows.

Are you willing to see where your journey goes?

The awakening, using hidden knowledge, the spiritual allure of creation, and the inevitable transformation which may come with embracing sometimes deeper truths about you:

At the risk of being irrevocably changed forever?

The Red Priestess represents a physical, seductive incarnation of the writing process.

The Red Church represents the creative library of inspiration.

The Great In-Between refers to the liminal space between consciousness and the unconscious, sleep and waking, the physical world and the spiritual.

Red represents courage, passion, danger and sacrifice, all bundled in a three-letter word.

Do you sometimes hear her whispers when you least expect it, and then compelled to write?

Has writing, the creative process. The mental dexterity needed to design and structure works in progress. 

Changed you from whom you originally were before you started writing?

Title.

The Red Priestess. 

(A lone voice whispers)

Within my dark dreams she always appears, and she sends me deep spiritual treasures 

To read and absorb by silver scrying mirrors 

In the silvery moonlights, many reflective walls

Which are in plain view but just hidden from nearly all

My crimson priestess from the Red Church 

With a multitude of dark confessional rooms

Hidden from all

Only revealed to the privilege few 

Who sits in one of their pews

Come listen and hear my calls and let me join you upon your quest

She always whispers and calls, whenever I dream

 There's a red room in here. In The Great In-Between.

With silk sheets adorned 

with diamonds and gold, 

where you can be my guest forever 

Until you're old 

I'll send you ancient spells to drive your success

Compassion and kindness to leave for others, to follow in your footsteps 

I await in the deep ravines, currently unexplored by you. 

Look deep within yourself tonight.

With the thinning of the veil between your world and mine, after the stroke of midnight 

And I'll appear before your eyes and command your mind to write

I'll take you back through the dark corridors of your dearest Hippocampus 

Past hidden cities and towns

Down your new Road to Damascus 

Like I once led Nostradamus 

To my Red Church of such Spiritual Salvation 

And there I will trace my soft fingertips

Along your new road maps to a new recovery, and tempestuous realms, of such redemption

That you'll want to stay and never return 

But it's here in this bedroom, tonight, as you write 

Your Red Church's ticket you'll earn, as the Earth turns, and your old world crumbles and burns

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy.