|"By a clear well, within a little field," by Marie Spartali Stillman, artmagick.com|
Editor's note: This poem grabbed my attention in a big way because it not only investigates the idea of old belief systems versus new, but, I think, touches on the way some people look askance on those of us who enjoy fairy tales, wonder, and fantasy.
You look back and see fools,
The ignorance of your ancestors.
You think you know so much we don't,
To you we are no more than jesters.
You mock the coin I throw in the well,
After closing my eyes and wishing.
You scorn the milk I leave outside,
So fairies won't make things go missing.
You jeer as I try to turn stone to gold,
Granted, I too gave up on straw.
Scoff as I share my bread with a widow,
Hoping reward will be sure.
You claim you are so different,
You know the tales are not true.
Yet you heed them as much as I,
Even though you pretend not to.
Don't your maidens place beauty as highest virtue,
As did the kings and princes of old?
And don't you think it quite romantic,
To be like a prince, brave and bold?
You might not wish upon a star,
As long as others can see you.
Whilst you laugh at destiny and fate,
Luck and chance see you through.
Your stones have changed to sacrifice,
Improving your fate is your aim.
Are my dreams of marrying powerful royalty,
So different than yours of wealth and fame?
Aren't good deeds still rewarded?
Do the bad ones not get their due?
Do you earn what you want on a silver plate,
Or after tasks, hardship and fighting through?
So next time you wish to sneer,
At those silly old fools of the past.
Remember we both do the same sort of deeds,
Isn't denial more foolish than the hope our spells cast?
Bio: Aliza is eighteen and has so far lived on three different continents. She is in love with anything fairy tale, and especially enjoys the fact that they can be interpreted in so many different ways.