The Poetry Marathon

In 1838 she was nine years old

Waiting for Father Christmas

To visit her and her three

Sisters as children did in Boston

Who had fathers who

Could afford to give

Girls gifts but all Amos had

Was strewn about their

School trying to transcend

Education with perfect living goals

Mama Alcott gave all love

And the girls made their

Toys from what they did for fun

Being with each other

Plays about the snow,

Struggling poor children who

Came upon their magic gifts

Of silk, silver coins, perfume

They shared with one another, the best

Day they had known until

Louisa May grew up and

Granted help to all of them who lived

Happily in books with words

That grew in immortality.

sylvan moments in a dark

lair beneath the flowered tree

a hidden place

a lonely place.

i told myself about those

imagined people living here

gloomy elves, forgetful dwarfs,

hard working royalty clothed

in woolen, hoods disguising

astonishing loveliness, perceptive

wisdom, beholden to witches

who eschewed ebony robes

of fairyhood for pumpkin hues

denoting holiness, genesis,

transition from ogre to angel.

i dug pebbles from the earth

gave them human names with

charismatic gifts of love,

healing and remembrance

i gained what i had sought

acceptance something more

than charm or magic.

i had believed and I was born.

In the beginning was the word

There are many beginnings

Not enough words

So I type the words but I feel

No stirring but anxiety

Anger, ripe trilogies of

Heroic offering with armored

Men on horses save

As if in battle scarred

By the years I spent in harness

Myself small child

Restrained and held

To protect me from running afar

I did that ran too far

Can never come home

Years passed I stumbled back

In tiny steps I grew

Aligned to other homes

None served as fortress nor

In tenth degrees did

Fall away protect or

Save me from my hero’s task

Jump on the horse

Hold to your banner

Escape and ride escape ride on

I am here a selfless girl

Inflicting my weapon

Manipulating my banner

Coming home a third time

Building the home myself.