Days of Yore

In days of yore,

I would find myself at the crossroad

where the devil dances.

Skeletal tree limbs braced by ashen sky,

a gibbet swaying on creaking rope,

filled with the broken pieces

of the thief in chains.

My shattered crown

threaded together with brambles

entwined in gnarled locks of gold

held in place speared through my flesh.

I search for the path that will lead me

back to the sanity,

the truth

that once sheltered me.

My hands blooded as I hold my heart

torn from my breast

and cast aside,

a treat for any passing wolf.

My rage grows knowing no bounds.

No longer am I the sweet princess

but the bitter Queen scorned.

In days of yore,

you would have cast me unto the wilds

letting fate and nature

sway your course.

A kinder,

fairer,

more humane demise

to what was once a love

so deep and true.

In days of yore

I could find another love

another man to hold me.

In days of yore

I could continue the dance

of life and love.

In days of yore……..

I would not feel my heart ripped apart

by the beast that shares your tongue.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

Oct. 7/17