Sleeping Beauty

When I was young I had a twin that did all the naughty stuff. She looked and sounded just like me but she was mad and bad, a beautiful, mystical siren who enchanted and bewitched.

She is asleep now the jealous, possessive witch in me pricked her finger and sent her into deep slumber whilst I married the prince. I only meet her in my dreams and when she finally wakes I will be most defiantly departed, feeding the rose bush in the ground.

Don’t get me wrong its not all crap, I'm no shrinking violet. As I say the witch in me, the banshee, the harpy, she still lives. I chose to wrap up a part of me, but was it really necessary to butcher and throw the pieces first.

Was I afraid they would know my true name, hold power over me. Best lock it up, control and safety, that's the key. These cords of love they keep me bound , chaffing at my wrists. They keep me warm and safe and snug, freedom is a risk.

When I wake I am snoozing and when I sleep I rise, go to all the places in the world, jump over the moon with the cow and spoon.

I'm a good girl, but in my dreams I'm naughty, a shameless hussy, kissing my best friends husband and then my husbands best friend. Hungry tongues murmuring in pleasure with no thought of hurts or consequences.

Happy with today; a real Zen master. I punch the girl who condescending looked me up and down in that clothes shop, hard and square in the gut, laugh gleefully and then I go sailing. I feel the wind in my hair and lick the salt from my lips.

While I dream I'm slim and young, free from my own constraints. My hair never needs brushing, my legs always smooth and I don’t get PMT.

The maiden, the mother and the crone, I'm all three now, but so afraid of my own power that I wont let it show.

Is there an antidote, or remedy at hand? To my daughter I will say don’t separate from yourself, live for every day. Be full with pain and hurt and love, and your whitchy women ways. Be princess, frog and wizard too. Fly to the moon when your awake. Don’t just dream it, my honey bunny, live it every day.

As for me I don’t wish to reject all I have, rather bring them here to meet. is it to late. Am I far too embroiled in tapestry to feel the lightest silk?

Run to life’s caravan to paint and write and sing. After all we women know that one and one is three.