damsel and distress -

an incantation
something like a spell,
something that requires myrrh and blood of doves,
something dark and pure to trace in the air
around them
to protect them
to guard them from the night.

close your eyes and think of the green eyed girl,
the one who always laughed first,
the one who did not watch for signs,
and barely read the tales,
for she seemed to know
that she would simply live
and others would write of her, this time.

close your eyes and think of the tall boy,
the one who leapt in the air,
the one who led the way because he did not have time to wait.
think of how he felt when he saw her,
the light in her eyes,
her shoulder bare and golden,
and think of how he leapt, then.

we were all lulled to sleep
with stories of finding and loss,
with wolves and witches and mirrors that kept secrets,
so what do you do
when the story is much simpler,
when the magic is just about
them?

you hold your breath.
you count the seconds.
you watch as they touch
and there is nothing to compare.

fresh,
like mornings over mountains.

clear,
like water over stone.

new,
like the same smile, the one you know,
coming to you again.

this is love.

and it does not matter who rescues whom.

you can close the book, now.

there is no incantation to protect them.  to lead them.  to keep them.  to hold them. 

there is no power
that you can provide.

this is not their ever after.
this is their now.



LS
9/27/03