Hansel in Darkness
The world is never what we want
that was the lie of the candy house.
A veil of confectionery covers our hearts
and we forget the stones in moonlight,
the broken bread, and the lesson
from the birds. God sees.
The finger bone reminds me
of the hunger I still have. The witch
fattened me in a cage,
ravenous in her own, in a room of food.
Sister, we cannot bar
the door from ourselves.
You collect your shadows
on afternoon walks, and press
them like flowers into a book. Memories
rise, a fragrance from the pages,
suckling pig of melted flesh. It is enough
to cast my own shadow in the morning.
Nights I search for the path
to retrace our steps.
We are not safe, Gretel,
the black forest never left us.
The fire burns our tongues
so that we only think we speak.
Gretel in Darkness Louise Gluck
The world is never what we want
that was the lie of the candy house.
A veil of confectionery covers our hearts
and we forget the stones in moonlight,
the broken bread, and the lesson
from the birds. God sees.
The finger bone reminds me
of the hunger I still have. The witch
fattened me in a cage,
ravenous in her own, in a room of food.
Sister, we cannot bar
the door from ourselves.
You collect your shadows
on afternoon walks, and press
them like flowers into a book. Memories
rise, a fragrance from the pages,
suckling pig of melted flesh. It is enough
to cast my own shadow in the morning.
Nights I search for the path
to retrace our steps.
We are not safe, Gretel,
the black forest never left us.
The fire burns our tongues
so that we only think we speak.
Gretel in Darkness Louise Gluck
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson