Midnight Comes Page 2
Knees weak as I stumbled
Sick to the core
The bargain I made
Was set to close
As the shallows licked
The sand from my toes
I thirsted for love
When they said it would fill me
I chased after dreams
Since they told me I should
I left my love, the sea, behind
Because the sun looked brighter on the other side
Silly little mermaid,
How could you not have known?
Little baby mermaid,
Weren’t you ever told?
Heartbroken little mermaid,
Living takes its toll.
How naïve, little mermaid
To try and earn a soul.
Mirror, Mirror, on the wall
i.
“tell me your troubles”
The mirror said
As pain painted
Dark trails
Down my cheeks
The words,
The thought drew me in
Because how easy
How very easy
It was
To watch my face
darken and smooth,
Shifting
in alignment with each sentence,
As I wept for myself
To myself
Of all the problems
I was drowning under.
I explained I was ugly
I told it my nightmares were dark
I told it
I fell into funks
Where
Everything
Was like nails
(dull, rounded, dirty fingernails)
Carving the skin of an apple
(or carving my skin—like an apple)
Everything
I’d never admit to a living soul
I told myself
Safe
With the soul inside me
That had died long ago
Under the crown.
I listened well.
The face I used to sway my people
Into believing that I
I
Their benevolent queen
Would never lie
Convinced myself,
Even myself
That I knew what was best.
That I was radiant
Because I spoke it so
And, as queen,
My word could be law
If I decreed it.
I listened well.
I fired my advisor
(A handsome man
Whom all the stars favored
By deciding his eyes
Were the place
To perform their dance,
while the sun occupied
their sky for the day.)
He did not approve
Of me
Of my mirror
How dare he?
The glass fogged with my rage.
How dare his existence
Raise these questions on
The value of mine?
I stormed.
Breath like cloud,
Voice like thunder,
Tears like rain.
He’d gone too far
I growled,
Eyes burning.
I listened well.
I called him back.
And my reflection watched
From its place on my wall
As his beautiful head
Fell
To the floor.
He would have spread unrest
I announced
In the still room.
How can a queen rule
When her councils outshine her?
That was the answer
I decided.
No one would be allowed to live
Who dared affront me
In this way.
In any way.
I would crush them
I whispered
As I charted
the new gleam of constellations
glimmering in the low light.
(that, I found,
flattered me best).
I looked stunning,
My reflection said,
Lips moving with mine.
More
More
Than ever before.
And I listened well.
ii.
I listened
And all was well
I was the fairest in all the land
Beautiful enough
To die for.
And they,
My people,
Did.
iii.
Then the princess came
Twirling
Into my life
Skirts swirling
Each step
Graceful
Like a dancer
Like the universe had a song
And she could hear it
Like I couldn’t.
She was not special in that regard.
But they were different,
Our songs.
She heard flute
and lute
and harpsichord
A thousand angels
Singing in choir
In unison
The whole world
Swelling in harmonies
(it was how she saw people too)
Mine
My view was deeper
Richer
Darker
Percussive timpani,
Violins,
And above them
The chimes
Sharp staccatos
And showers of glassy shards
Soloists with accompaniment
Not hands-clasped folk-dances
Lyrics and laughter interchangeable
Off-key
Off-beat
Off-kilter
Cycling in vertigo.
iv.
Even so
I could not kill her
(not for lack of trying.)
Oh, how I hated her.
Hated her beauty.
Hated that she did not care,
And somehow that made her more.
Instead of less
As when I had tried it.
She did not care
That she was everything
Everything I ever wanted
Everything I could never be
She became my standard
The measure
By which I measured myself
Her joy infuriated me
Her happiness grated on me
I ground my teeth
And left rooms
When she entered them
Sometimes.
Sometimes
I stayed.
Sat,
Glaring,
And expelled
My loathing
With every sigh.
I hated her
And I hated my hatred.
A mother should love her daughter.
I wished then, that we
Were tied by the blood of that covenant
Instead
My mirror
and I
Lusted
to see hers spilled.
Even so
The people loved her.
Her death
Would mean revolt
And a queen
Needs subjects left to rule
To shepherd
To guide
(to validate, and be validated by)
So I bided my time,
Ticking off on my fingers
All the problems
Her death would solve
For me.
She would have to be a martyr
I decided
And my mirror agreed
But a pensive frown disturbed its face
Could I live,
I was forced to ponder,
With this child
Raised
To the statu
s of saint?
For something
As simple as dying?
If that were all it took
I could have been a goddess already.
Worshipped in memorial
An angel taken too soon.
Do you truly think
It hadn’t crossed my mind?
There is no challenge in death.
Living is the harder fight.
But she could not live,
My mirror and I sneered
But she could not be made a martyr either
And so
A compromise.
She would disappear
Ungrateful wretch
Abdicate her claim
To throne and country
Flee in the dead of night
Like a common criminal
The people
Fickle in adoration
Would grumble
And complain
Of the spoiled youth
Who had rejected them
Thinking only of herself.
(It is easy to judge
from one side of the glass.)
I alone would know the truth
I would order my huntsman
To bring me her heart
And in return
I would favor his
With the privilege
of continuing
To beat
v.
It was a brilliant plan
My mirror whispered
The perfect plan.
I would have the people’s love
I would have their loyalty.
Bought, an irrefundable transaction
Sealed with a pledge of blood.
I listened well.
And all was well.
A heart was brought
And I ordered it cooked
And eaten.
A piece
To each faithful advisor.
And the largest
To me,
Their queen.
No gale of chance
No magician’s spell
Could bring her back from that.
vi.
I retired to my room
That night.
The breeze blew through the windows
And sent the curtains fluttering.
It was quiet
I realized
I mused to my mirror,
Refusing to lock eyes.
Scared, perhaps, of what I’d see in them.
Not stars, this time.
The eyes are the window to the soul.
And mine
Was tying unfamiliar knots
Inside my chest.
It was not too far, too cruel.
It was security.
I whispered the words
To the looking glass.
And I heard
Nothing
In return.
I lifted my gaze, dark lashes
fluttering
as they grazed my cheek.
And in the mirror
I saw only that
Which I had ever seen.
Only
The reflection
Of me.
Lost and Found
Lost
Lost I am
Lost and
Transparent and
Cold
Like the fragments of ice
Puzzle pieces scattered on the floor
Before me
They are supposed to make a word
The queen told me so
My queen told me so
She says
I am the one to put them back
In their order
In their place
She says it is
Very
Important
I sit at the foot of her throne
The throne of the queen who kissed me
And brought the quiet of winter into my soul
Have you seen her? She is beautiful.
I am only lost
Only lost
Only lost
“Found”
There is a girl
Standing in the doorway
Speaking
Too much
Doesn’t she see? I am working.
Putting these pieces together
“I’ve found you”
That’s what she is saying to me
This girl
Hair in braids
Color in her cheeks
She looks so out of place
In this place
Under the frozen willow
Where everything is white
and blue
and ice
I dreamed about her
I think
Before I met the queen
Before the pain
Sharp
Searing
Cleaving my heart
Like butter
On bread
And then the nothing
the Silent
Blank expanse
Like a soft
Carpeting
Of freshly fallen snow
Across my mind
But I do not dream anymore
The snow is too cold
I sleep too soundly
I don’t look up
I am working
but this is wrong
apparently
because she takes my hand
and looks so sad
so broken
as if I hold the key
to something far more precious than the sun
and I have dropped it
clumsy me
down a rabbit hole
where there is no finding it
no retrieval
(we are too big
it is too deep
impossible task)
(like this puzzle)
(I will never say that
never out loud
but I think it)
A breath
Puff of white
Brushes my cheek
Hot
Burning
I look
She is crying
Crying and mouthing words I cannot understand
I should understand
But I look
I listen
And my mind passes through them
Like glass
Like ice
I cannot
What are you saying?
What are you saying to me?
My queen would say
“it does not matter”
“nothing matters”
I think that she is wrong
Some things do.
Important things.
Like this puzzle.
The word it spells out.
She says it is a freeing word.
The girl takes my hands
Both my hands
I cannot work while she holds them
That is her goal, most likely
Her tears fall on our hands
And I feel warmth
Creep
Slither
Crawl
Up my limbs
All the way
To my heart
Which, I think,
Begins to beat
Again
That is new.
Or old
Perhaps.
She says a word
A name.
And it is my name.
I remember now
The kiss, the pain, yes, I
I never lost those.
But before
Before all that:
The girl
The village
The family
The roses in the window box
Her roses in the window box
My family
My village
My friend.
She lunges forwards
Hugs me
And the puzzle pieces scatter
Across the floor
The winter b
lows away
In my mind
To cool, sweet, rose colored spring
And the word I have been searching for:
“Found.”
About the Author
Sierra Blasko is, and always plans to be, a dreamer of impossible dreams, and a hoper of far-flung hopes. A born-again Christian, she lives in Massachusetts with her two parents, three siblings, and zero dragons (hopefully someday that last one will change). She will be starting her freshman year of college in the fall of 2018, pursuing a double major in English/Writing and Theatre for Social Justice, and she cannot wait to see what life holds in store.