For some of us, poetry is one of the ways in which we can express our feelings or experiences with the Divine. Whether we compose it ourselves or discover a poem that has the perfect words to touch our hearts and say what we’d want to say.

It isn’t easy to be a poet. You can wrestle with words for days and still come up empty-handed. I find that if I just sit down with the intention of writing a poem about Isis, I get—well—pretty much nothing.

The way it works best for me, is to poise my fingers over the keyboard, clear my mind, close my eyes, invoke the Goddess…and start typing. (The trick is keeping your fingers over the right keys. Otherwise you get rhwewosqeonger.)

What comes out is by no means finished. It’s more like notes for a poem. Then I work with it and shape it, making it into something, and in that process discover its meaning—for me, for now. 

The value of this for me is that I often get images that I would not have come up with in my normal state of consciousness. Sometimes, they don’t even make logical sense, but they do make a kind of poetic sense. They can be odd and beautiful. Sometimes I edit out the strangenesses. Sometimes I just leave them in, hoping that they’ll communicate what the Goddess intended.

To show you what I mean, I’m going to do a little experiment right now. [NOTE: This is a repost. But when I first wrote it, it was done “live” and in real time.]

So here we go. Fingers poised over keyboard…opening…invoking…and typing this:

long black wings against a blue white sky clouds bending into circles interpenetrating the blackness of feather of feature of faith clean sharp shriek of light coming into my mind clearing feathered fog leaving its own breath I am hearing you now

That’s what it looks like first out of my brain, and inspired in whispered hints from some Muse-form of Isis. It sort of reminds me of Symbolist poetry from the late 19th/early 20th century.

Now, I’ll break it up into phrases and add punctuation as remembered from my mental “hearing” of it:

Long black wings against a blue-white sky. Clouds bend into circles, interpenetrating the blackness of feather, of feature, of faith. A clean, sharp shriek of light comes into my mind, clearing feathered fog and leaving its own breath. I am hearing you now.

I’m starting to understand what this is about. It’s about the subject of this post—receiving poetic inspiration from the Goddess. So it is an image of what that inspiration can be like.

Now, working with it a bit more, I get this:

Long, dark wings flash against a purified sky. Blue-white ghost clouds move and spiral, interpenetrated by the blackness of feather, of feature, of faith. In my mind, a clean, sharp shriek of light clears feathered fog, leaves its own breath. I am hearing you now.

I’ll leave this as it is for now. If I had intended to keep this, I would probably work with it a bit more. It’s not quite there yet, but it’s just a quick example of what the Goddess might inspire. 

Now, art of any kind isn’t quick and easy. In fact, it takes time and practice. But if you are at all inclined, I’d urge you to try it. In your own way, of course. And in your own medium. Maybe you’ll paint instead. Maybe you’ll sing. But however it comes to you, don’t be concerned with the perfection of your results. She doesn’t care about that. Isis will always gladly take your work as an offering of devotion and love.

(I have a question about this little bit of Isis poetry: That final phrase, “I am hearing you now.” Is that the poet hearing the Goddess, or the Goddess hearing the poet? What do you think?)