On The Veracity Of Fairy Tales (Final Draft)

I was thinking about the fairy tale lore

how often it speaks to distinguishing


the false from the true

and yet it is condemned as being

out of reality by sniffy people

looking straight through you,

you, who persist in cherishing them,

the old tales,

whatever else you do,

are deemed fools.

but this is the vein of gold

running through the marble immutable

not to be bought or sold

but earned.

and the heartfelt bird

sings more true

than the mechanical one breaking down.

look, look what I found

I ran to tell my mother,

my grandparents too, though they were gone

who schooled me in them.

all those ardent stories

though now they are disabused

(the children), from reading them

and given sand in a tea cup

by the witches turning them

into political fables

disabling beauty and the good

as if they could

in a turgid, not, an embellished Wood

yet, in the original, what else could we use

when the Soul is falling, falling down or bruised

or pushed from behind.

time out of mind.

the best that can be found,

all, all I know:

the dog with its jeweled bone;

peculiar moonlight when the breadcrumbs are all gone;

the road lined in opals is leading straight home.

mary angela douglas 26 july 2019