The Fairy World

Ivy, Faery Lane, Church Wood, Penwortham

Stumbling blind in my mind’s bitter night
bells tolled as the unbidden hill rose.
I wept at the yew’s unearthly roots
and sang to the forbidden world.

My heart of darkness tore apart
at dread of a funeral procession,
the fear they had locked my cold corpse
grey and stiff within the glass coffin.

Their leader pale and black garbed
stunned me with beauty and terror.
I knew I must look into the glass box
or live forever stumbling through error.

I viewed my face – a floating visage,
not a body but the reflection
of a frightened girl torn in half,
trapped in ghastly predilection.

The Fairy King (for he revealed his name)
promised entrance through a hidden door
to a land and face beyond the glass
if I set aside my churlish thoughts.

I sang again by the yew at twilight.
I exchanged one spell for another
and rode with him into the fairy night,
not knowing if I would be recovered.

Butterflies haunt ivy chandeliers.
A wren sings from the fern rich heart.
The lady in the sycamores looks out
on a woodland bathed in elfin arts.

My return remains a mystery.
I do not know if I am live or dead.
The spell persists with my fateful words-
all around me the Fairy World lives.

Faery Lane, Church Wood, Penwortham


7 thoughts on “The Fairy World

  1. Wow….powerful, haunting journey this poem takes us on. It seems a darker version of Thomas the Rhymer. Faery certainly has this dark side, especially in the Autumn coming towards Halloween. Your poem also has the feel of those eerily wonderful supernatural border ballads. Cheers, Charlotte

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