Snow White
I see you
in the museum, at midnight –
dancing with the dead things,
caressing dust from faded fur
and feathers,
reminding them
of how it felt to live.
You understand how it is
to emerge, creaking and cautious
having been pinned in place,
inflamed and aching,
bent into the shape
that illness will allow.
The bright glare, muffled roar
of life passing beyond glass walls
as you lay, stifled in stillness,
reduced to merely watching
with bright button eyes.
So, dance with your dead menagerie
let brittle birds take refuge in your hair.
Creatures congregate around you,
reanimated animals, thankful
for the moments they can hold
something like life again.
Anna Maughan lives in Bristol, UK.She believes in the redemptive power of hope and the importance of open and honest discourse around the subject of mental health. Her writing is informed by her own struggles with C/PTSD as well as chronic pain and illness. Her kids have saved her life countless times.Anna’s work can be seen or is forthcoming in Humana Obscura, Ink Sweat and Tears and Wild Roof Journal, amongst others.
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