Cry Me a River Elizabeth



This is my ultimate personal card, even all these years later, I am this Queen. This is not my favourite depiction of her though, as she reminds me of caricatures of the dissolute Emperor Nero. However, she is St. Elizabeth of Hungary and was probably chosen for this card because she was a widow before becoming a nun. The Queen of Swords is often associated with widows.

Here is the original painting by Simone Martini.


Perhaps because of the widowhood, this card can also mean grief. Yes, she is intellectually astute and suffers no fools, but she also carries grief with her too, and that’s what I see today.

I am having a time adjusting to everything it seems. I try to do projects to compensate but I overdid the embroidery the other day and have a tender bruise now on my arthritic hand, so have to break for a day or two. This leaves me in my Queen of Swords mind, slashing and biting myself. Yesterday I sat at the table saying to the spouse how I didn’t see how I could continue to live, tears streaming down my immovable face, no comfort forthcoming from that manly quarter.

What a thing. The old human condition. Sometimes you can’t think your way through things Queenie, sometimes you have to feel it. “Oh how awful!” says Queenie, reaching for a biography of William Morris and finding that it hasn’t arrived at the library yet, leaving her with nothing to waylay her mind.

What to do, what to do to keep from going mad? Nothing I’m afraid, you have to sit and feel. Logic and goals, the quick-witted rational mind, are in the soup, floating for a time, adrift. How dramatic, but that’s this Queen, she never does thing by halves. Clinging to grief won’t cut it Queenie, you have to go through it. In a way, that offers a type of independence that this Queen would like.

Sigh. Bloody feelings.




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