The Queen of Wands is a force of nature, a woman who owns herself. She knows what she wants, and she isn’t afraid to reach out for it. She is Anaïs Nin and Cleopatra and so many in between.
The Queen of Wands is the dancing flame’s grace and control, the one who gives the blaze autonomy, a life of its own. She is a choreographer of light and shadow, grounded in action, at home in movement.
This Queen glows like a firefly at dusk; she is a moment of wonder that teaches presence. This Queen has cat eyes and might intimidate those not ready for her. This Queen knows fear and looks upon its face, knows bottomlessness and leaps, knows pain and burns anyway.
She is the raging Colorado River. She is the midday Midsummer sun. She is the fierce mother mountain lion. She is the paintbrush to canvas, the pencil to paper, the fervent cut-and-paste collage being made in the wee hours. She is the city with so many lights in so many windows. She is the festival where spirits run free.
The Queen of Wands is a hundred harp string notes, like faeries among the listener; The Queen of Wands is Florence Welch’s voice; The Queen of Wands is the guitar solo in “Stairway to Heaven” and the intro to all The Black Keys’ songs.
The Queen of Wands is Sophia Burset and Claire Fraser and Daenerys Stormborn. She is Diana, the huntress. She is Scarlett O’Hara, especially when reversed.
This Queen is drawn from the deck when we need to look in the mirror and remember who we are, when it’s time to commit to something we want, when the power we seek is within us and the answers will come with some hard work, or perhaps when we deserve to celebrate a victory.