Love and Words


the forest


Little girl lost,

tell me, 

what manner 

is your forest?

Tall trees that whisper,

and a path that disappears,

and in the distance,

a castle,

that seems never to draw near.

And what lies before you?

Nothing that I have seen.

And what lies behind you?

All the places I have been.

And what would you have,

if you could be given just one thing?


wings to fly 

so I may soar above all these leaves.

And look out, 

and look away,

and see all the places

that have forgotten me.

And why have you been forgotten?

Because I became lost.

And how did you lose your way?


I was chasing a faerie,

only the faerie was not meant for me.

And did you catch her?

No, she got away.

And what happened next?

I had lost my way.

Little girl lost, 

tell me, 

how will you find your way home?

I shall follow the path of my beating heart

where it drums most loudly,

and turn in a different direction

when its rhythm grows dim.

And what will you eat

along the way?

The meat that the forest gives me.

And what will you drink?

The dew it holds for me in its leaves.

Little girl lost, 

tell me, 

how long have you wandered?

Not long now, I think,

for I can still hear my places calling.


Little girl lost,

shall I 

tell you what I see?

Yes, please, my voice,

for I have no mirror

in which to prepare my hair

for company.

I see no little girl, 

perhaps there was one long ago,

but before me now

I see an old woman

whose hair has grown white and long.

And she sits 

on a pile of bones

beneath the shade of an oak tree,

picking at the ground with fingers

stained with fat and grislies.

Little girl,

Little girl,

how lost did you become,

that to survive 

you ate

your own children?

You are no voice of mine,

but the devil sent to distract me.

These are not bones

but branches the forest has given me.

I never had children

and never would cause one harm,

for children are precious and wise.

These are the bones of mere starlings

that threatened to cloud my eyes.


Little Girl,

Little Girl,

how lost have you become, 

to not see that the price

of living a lost life

was to lose your chance

at living one?

Not everything,

I swear to you,

I cannot have lost everything.

It is said,

there's always one more chance.


You see, 

I am awake now,

and I know where I went wrong.

It was the faeries fault. 

It was the sun in my eyes.

It was all those people who said they loved me,

but stopped calling out when I was gone.


If you could just help me to my feet,

I would be most obliged,

and on my way

to better things,

and back to a life,

that should have been mine.

Little girl.

Little girl.

Don't take me for a fool.

For I can see

how sharp your teeth are

and how my kindness

would meet your gratitude.

Then go away

and leave me be,

I have no use for someone 

I cannot even see.

Can you not see me?

Look now again, 

over here in the shapes 

that are woven by the wind.

My god.

It cannot be.

God has very little to do,

with this discussion between you and me.

My God,

My god, 

someone please

help me.

Help you, 

as you have helped all those

who came before me?

Help you?

Who has done nothing?

I think not.

Then what shall become of me?

Little girl lost, 

don't you know, 

that all lost things,

are eventually,

found by me?


decagon          poetry



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