Posts Tagged ‘comments’

That’s the way all fairy tales end.

That’s the way they died-

happily.

 

Snow White and her Prince

outlasted the dwarves,

but went out

without growing old,

and smiling.

Both were already pale

as corpses.

They could simply have fallen asleep,

but who would kiss them awake?

 

Briar Rose died

leaving heirs.

Her husband passed

before she did. She never remarried.

She had raised a King and a Princess

with her own golden hair

and lark-like speech.

Neither one inherited their father’s

battle lust. So,

she was happy.

 

Cinderella lived in luxury,

she died in a bed of blue and white velvet,

which resembled the sea, knowing

her sisters had bled

from their feet, and their eye sockets

had become infected.

Her stepmother died

one year after she married the Prince.

Her reign with the Prince,

who became a king

after his father spewed one last breath

like a geyser,

went without war.

And when she lay in bed

her gold slippers were at its foot,

and she saw her fairy godmother

hovering over her with a halo around her face.

Her husband did not weep

as she passed- eyes shutting slowly,

clams closing on blue pearls-

he sang.

He sang a lovely little dirge

about birds and a tree

and rising up from the Earth

as if flying,

and Cinderella died

smiling,

happy.

I wish there was a place I belonged.

Where I could escape the screams,

escape the judgement

of eyes widen and staring,

or, thin as worms, glaring.

I wish there was a place I belonged

for even among friends

everything I say is counted against me

with angry exclamations,

or approved with subtle laughter–

not the roaring guffaws

they make after each other’s comments.

I wish there was a place

where I could listen to music that moves,

rustles the long grass blades of my mind,

not this mindless drivel

driving its guitar riffs against gravel vocals.

I wish there was a place where I had friends

who wished to go where I wished to go.

 

I feel the wind on my face,

it caresses, tugs my clothes

and pulls me toward the heart of the forest

near the hills behind my home.

I’m alone.

The sun beats overhead.

For now, I’m where I belong.

Here, in this quiet focus of the natural, blue, green,

and yellow world. It speaks in whispers.

I belong here.

Alone.