Tarot Tuesdays: The Knight of Wands

I am excited to be taking part in Tarot Tuesdays inaugurated by Jenn Moss over on her blog. The premise is simple, but effective; each Tuesday, Jenn draws a random Tarot card and the following week creates a story, poem, or whatever else inspires. Anyone who wishes to participate can write their own response to the card on their blog and post a comment linking back to it.

The first card to be drawn is the Knight of Wands and here is my response in the form of a rumination.


Knight of wands

The Knight of Wands

In the midst of the barren desert the Knight of Wands pulls up sharply, impetuously in mid-gallop, causing his horse to rear. He is bearing aloft a knobbly, burgeoning bough, bursting with green shoots. This is a quixotic fellow; there is something absurd about that great stick he’s brandishing in the place of a knight’s lance, a neat, honed weapon of destruction. What, one might ask, does he think he’s going to do with it, precisely?

I find myself imagining that this unlikely knight is on a quest to bring life and hope to the waterless places. Somehow, with that stick full of shoots like the hopeful eyes on a cupboard potato, our knight intends to turn that desert place into lush, green forest, living boughs sweeping the blue sky.

Heinrich_fueger_1817_prometheus_brings_fire_to_mankindHow might he achieve this? Perhaps in the same way as Prometheus brought fire to the whole of humanity, with only a few stolen, glowing coals concealed in a great stalk of fennel, held aloft in flight. Prometheus was another quixotic fellow who took sometimes unlovely humankind as his chosen Dulcinea. He would come to pay a high price for his chivalry in presenting his illicit gift of life and power to the naked, shivering apes who trembled before Zeus Omnipotent.

Behind our Knight, amongst the trackless sands, rear up the ancient tombs of the ancestors, sealed and immutable. In contrast, the brandished bough, pullulating with green shoots speaks of new ideas, new life, new energy. Our tree-planter of the desert wastes stands up against stone Ozymandias’ ‘sneer of cold command’ and goes gallantly forth on his absurd quest to foster green and flourishing life on the parched and waterless places of the world.