Hour Fourteen – Sleepless Nights Mary Pecaut
Every night before bed,
Mom and I snuggled and read
fairytales from other lands.
I didn’t readily
I couldn’t sleep
when Jack and Jill
tumbled down the hill
or even less when Gretel and Hansel
lost their way in the forest, trusted a stranger who treated
them well. The Witch! She caged them, enslaved them
and shoved ’em in the oven.
Such were the Grimm tales of my childhood.
As an adult, the stories are clear. The world is a tale of child
abandonment, enslavement, cannibalism, and murder.
Little Red Riding Hood skips through the woods –
her basket full of muffins – a fine treat for Grandma
who she discovers in bed
devoured by a wolf.
What have we concluded? Grandma shouldn’t live alone secluded
or be careful of those disguised as someone we love.
And what the F–k was Goldilocks doing in the Three Bears Home?
It was never about ‘getting things just right’. For God’s sake,
your story is blown.
Respect the privacy of others!
We’re to believe that all is hunky dory?
Rest assured, if the Bears owned
guns, it would have been
a very different story.
I dreamed that I might be Scheherazade
famed storyteller of The One Thousand and One Nights
who taught me – to tell a story well
just might save your life.