for sleeping beauty
By By Anna Pollock
Forgive me, dear Princess.
But I hope he breaks your heart
And that you feel – in devastation –
Its crushing crack in half.
And forgive my candor, fair Princess.
But in blood and tears and battle scars
The wicked curse on your sleeping heart
Has a striking silver lining.
Look! That stinging, plunging knife
Has been laced with rage and strength.
Unbeknownst to him, a beating sea
That every fire knows to fear --
Charged into your desolate heart.
And then, dear Princess,
That stabbing you declared “fatal”
Makes your only antidote.
Now in your newfound autonomy,
This internal but evident sovereignty,
You will cross mountaintops,
And oceans, and deserts, and plains –
But more importantly, radical Princess,
The next time you trip upon a dream --
Sleeping Beauty! Rise and sing your fate:
“I don’t remember ever feeling
Quite this wide awake.”