I Come to Myself

Arthur Rackham

Brothers Grimm “The Old Woman In the Wood” illustrated by Arthur Rackham

I’ve come to love the silence. In the dalliance of the day I hear the sturdy mesquite grow more knob-kneed with each fire I set by waltzing by. I am unaware that the trees — being trees– are jealous for my essence, my mouth forming words beyond a guttural clacka clack. Jealous for lithe limbs, breast buds which suffer not through winter.

A handsome tree begs of me, “Do what you please! Throw off your grosgrain, loose the heavy corded ribbon from your hair. Loose desire as I cannot! Let the wind cool your warm flesh, lift your ferociously folded hem.”

Talisman trees cast dulcet tones over a grove of enchantment I neither understand nor fear. With its twig grip over me I am cooperatively inarticulate, caught up in the wooooo, wooooo. My lips curl at the edges like a small leaf and I am myself bursting through blushing wood, whirling and twirling as devil from dust beautiful and mute before impossibly returning to impossibility.

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26 thoughts on “I Come to Myself

  1. Oh yay!!! I’m rarely on my WP reader at night and it is serendipity to find your gem waiting for me.
    This is divine, Angie! I loved it even more than I imagined when you first told me about it.
    Add to that, the Arthur Rackham drawing. My childhood Grimm’s Fairy Tales book was filled with AR drawings.
    Your beautiful passage reminds me of winter afternoons spent in front of the wood burning stove with my big red book all wrapped up in a blanket and in a fantasy world all my own.
    Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Xo

      1. Your lushly woven lines blend seamlessly here. Though I wouldn’t say luscious, as I did not have a desire to eat them. LOL Truly enjoyed your contribution. Thanks for sharing!

  2. I love love the sounds in this, the dreamy quality, and the regret(?) in the last line: “impossibly returning to impossibility.” Oh, and this image: “My lips curl at the edges like a small leaf.”

  3. This is almost prose poetry it is so rhythmic and, well, poetic! I love the spirit of the woods, and the whole piece is so in keeping with the Grimms and Arthur Rackham. It was so beautiful, I read it twice.

  4. I like the conversation you spark from the illustration. And I love how your poetic inclinations translate to prose. I feel like I slid down your story as I read it. Deftly written, Angie!

      1. I liked that you called it a story, because quite frankly, I feel inept to concoct any semblance of a story. This is why I couch fiction in poetic velvet hoping it will feel like story.

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