|
Poetry
Fantasy
“It wasn't my fault I opened the box”
you lie to yourself—and it hardens your heart.
So you stand at the door, and it's closed to you.
You watch as girls with frightened eyes go—
They enter, pass on, and you're left to wonder,
Embittered.
Everyone lies to themselves, sometimes.
But the young who haven't made your mistakes,
The children, pure from blame for now
Aren't the only ones who go under the gate
There are also the forgiven, the heroes, the sorry—
Liberated.
Not just the saints, not just shakers of heaven,
But you, if you'd look at your heart, and your fingerprints,
And confess “Only hope is left in the box.”
Then follow your children through to Beyond,
That under-the-mountain, through-the-river, past the gate
Mystery.
|
Click Here for Easy-to-Read B&W Format
If this contribution met with your satisfaction, please consider making a contribution of your own so we may pay our authors and keep the magazine delivering great speculative fiction far into the future. Thank you for visiting.
Copyright 2011, Bethany Powell. All rights reserved. Bethany is a fiber artist who creates yarn themed on fantasy, cartoon characters, and book covers. This pursuit inspired “Flax,” her first poem to be published, in Aoife’s Kiss. She has since published in Chizine as well, and has other poetry forthcoming. She lives in Oklahoma for the time being, on a marginally successful homestead with her family.
Contents
|
|
|