A Stronger Magic

We know how this story goes, my friends-

The Witch, the tower, the Prince in the end-

Sometimes, a Dragon (just for a twist)

Perched tippity top, which is shrouded in mist-

And Heaven knows we know what happens next

With nary a glimpse at the rest of the text-

The Princess climbs down from her place in the rafters-

And she and her Knight live Happily Ever After.

 

But!

 

There is a tale, not yet told,

Of a Witch, and a tower, and a girl of pure gold.

Don’t jump to conclusions! Don’t place your bets!

As I told you before, we know nothing yet.

 

The door to the stairwell is always propped open

By a magical mother who is ceaselessly hoping

That someday her child, her baby, her girl,

Will cast off her fears, and step into the world.

And in weekly witch book clubs she voices her fears

Among storybook friends and teacakes and tears

“Have I done something wrong, am I a bad mother?”

And they all disagree, show her how much they love her-

But her darling is waiting, when she gets home-

Clutching onto her dragon, to feel less alone-

For as much as the outside world petrifies,

She longs so dearly for what she denies.

And the Witch has dreams of a woman long gone,

Who shattered her heart with a child of song-

Because some mothers are mothers straight from the start,

And others are mothers by the strength of their heart.

 

When the Boy walks by, and the Girl peeks out,

The Witch reacts with a tremulous shout!

She races down steps before he can flee,

Throws open the door, invites him for tea!

“Rapunzel!” she cries, with a dignified air.

“We have guests, my dear, please brush your hair!”

And her daughter descends, the Witch sheds a tear,

When her girl promises, “You’re safe now, here.”

He tells them his story, hangs up a coat of red,

Spins a sad tale of bad wolves and fresh bread.

 

No Witch can promise you Happy Ever After-

But no spell is needed for home, love and laughter.

This is the story I tell you today-

Of the Witch who gives all to souls set astray.

Of the Prince and the Princess who don't fall in love

But who find their own way from the tower above.

 

And sometimes our brothers come from chance, not from blood.

And family grows from the deepest of loves.

Because some mothers are mothers straight from the start,

And others are mothers from the strength of their heart.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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