~Dress Rehearsal~

~Dress Rehearsal~
I have had some private moments this day with the Enchantress. I would really like to remain here, but my heart insists I move on. I hope it comes from my heart and is not an ~ego~ based decision.

The Enchantress is all knowing, comfortable in her own skin. She listens carefully as we sit on large rocks by a quiet stream. I talked with her about poetry or rather my reasons for the writing of it.

This poetry is my deepest emotion - it stays in layers, these buried parts of my authentic self. As I write a shift occurs within my rational mind. The layers peel back and flip quickly exposing bursts of words. Sometimes, I explain, the words seem angry, perhaps misdirected. They, my words don't have bad intentions. They are the excavated parts of myself the human race does not see. ~Not for Daily Consumption~ would be the title of my poetry book.

The Enchantress nods. Her eyes are smiling which I take to interrupt she understands. And so I read her my composed piece -

~Ancestors~
Ancestor of two generations ago
bloodline continue the flow.
Female pink bundles explode
Five daughters long, born twice.
Young strong women
You just don't know.
Curling brown hair
Green stern, bright eyes
Tall, lean bodies a glow.
Just like you,
piercing lips of anger
Injustice takes hold.
Heads and wire rimmed glasses in books
Labors of ten hour days.
Plowing up fields
Computers, cell phones, and books
Strapped to their backs,
They guide Chevy's not horses
Up and Down the roads.
Babies of your dreams
Emerging patterns explode.
Married to limbless men
From necessary wars
Masking their feelings,
Climbing into bottles, with new friends,
Bud, Jack and Jim.
Comfortable residents,
Female pink bundles explode.

She smiles, this is enough for me. I tell her I pulled these words from lost ancestors, women I miss, their bloodlines are mine, too. I thought so many things about them, and my own daughters this past week on my travels here. Their strengths are many. Their burdens a different form, but are still burdens.

Again, she understands and judges not. She asks to see the costume. I carefully remove it from the box. She knows immediately the era I chosen the dress from. The Regency. She feels the soft pink muslin. She suggests perhaps I need a cape or long coat.

We walk back through the woods to the entrance. My horse is waiting. A message has arrived and some change in plans has occurred - I am to venture on to the ~Isle of the Ancestors~. A bit confused I add the note to my maps. The Enchantress points the way, with a parting gift. I know we will meet again.

Ms. Lovelace ( Patricia )

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