They all told her to follow the route
to the left of the woods.
'Take the path to the left, it leads
to a clearing where bluebells grow in spring', they said.
'The road to the right is uphill
and brambles will scratch your pretty face
and you may find yourself lost and frightened.
Your heartbeat will race and you will find
your old childhood fairy tales
spring from your imagination,
the wolf might get you !.
Please take the road to the left',
they said, until it became like a prayer.
'My love takes the road to the right', she said.
I will risk the brambles
and the darkness of my imagination.
I will slay the wolf,
my love is leading, I must follow'.
They must wait in the clearing to the left of the wood,
the mother gathering bluebells
to pin to her daughter's dress.
She would return, sometime soon,
when the teen years are past.
Mothers are good at waiting.
Brigid O'Connor
1 comment:
Aaww, Glenn, I came over to check out your entry this week for Magpie, how exciting to be featured on your blog.
Thank you so much and for publishing my words and for your lovely, poetic comment on my blog.
I love the picture.
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