In the fairy tale, always
something has called you, the trick
is to discover what.
It starts with a shadow
like a cat that comes calling,
purring velvety at your legs.
The same alchemy is asked
of you to enter, you must reveal
the center of your own maze,
unlock the doors you find there.
The fruits you are offered
will not dissolve the glamour
like they always told you,
only strengthen it.
You will turn all to glass
to be filled with columbine and ferns,
with jasmine and peonies
and all the ruby blooming of hope,
no longer forced to live
in the land that grief leaves behind.
The air is salt and honey
on your cheeks, we shed the heavy
clumsy weight of being human,
cut our true selves out
of the dark, survive drowning
by holding our breath for years.
We came prepared to find death
but the Otherlands are too bright for dying,
make bronze out of the bleak things
we shoved inside the walls
of our own hearts,
filling all the gaps with conjurings.
Faith Allington is a writer, gardener and lover of mystery parties who resides in Seattle. Her work has recently appeared in various literary journals, including The Fantastic Other, The Quarter(ly), Bowery Gothic and FERAL.
photo by Ruben Da Costa (via pexels)
Crow & Cross Keys 