Two black ink tattoos on the inner wrists, an Om symbol on the left and a solid lotus flower on the right, with dark sleeves above.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Om and lotus tattoos on wrists

Blackwork · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Two matching tattoos sit on the inner wrists, shown from the palm side with dark knitted sleeves above. The left wrist carries a bold Om symbol in smooth black linework, and the right carries a solid black lotus flower with pointed petals. Both are rendered in black ink only, against pale skin and a striped background.

Blackwork Other Om Lotus Flower Symbol

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fog had sat on Skerrow Bay for three days, and on the fourth the Morag and the Gannet went out past the skerries anyway, because the herring had come in under the cold water and the wives needed the money. Tamsin Roe steered the Gannet with the tiller under one arm. Her sister Ailsa knelt at the bow, humming the low note their grandmother had taught them, the one that made the swell lie down for a count of a hundred.

Keep reading

Old Isbel had told them the sea kept a lotus at the bottom of the deep pool beyond the skerries, a black flower that never opened to daylight, only to a sound given back to it. Most of the fishermen laughed at the tale. Still, when the Morag's lantern went out at noon and the fog closed over her like a lid, it was Ailsa's hum that the sisters heard coming back across the water, thin and steady. Tamsin turned the Gannet toward it and did not look away from the bow.

Halfway there Ailsa's breath gave out and the hum faltered. Tamsin took the note up without thinking, her throat raw with salt, and the two voices wound together over the black water. A pale bloom broke the surface beside the Morag, then another, petals opening one by one with the sound of wet cloth lifting. The swell went flat. The men on the Morag saw the rocks come up grey out of the mist, close enough to touch, and pulled their oars the right way.

They came into harbour at dusk with the herring in the hold and eleven men alive. The next morning the children of Skerrow found a flower of black weed bobbing in the harbour mouth, its petals pointed like the prows of boats. Isbel lifted it in both hands, said nothing, and set it back on the water for the tide to take. That is the thing Skerrow remembers about the sisters, and the reason no one there ever told them to stop singing.