Flowers Out Of Dark: The Source

My maidens pack up and we’re gone
as my husband, human once more
returns to claim what’s rightfully his.

Not looking where they’re going, my maidens fall
one
by
one
into the lake.
Sink, bubble
bob to the surface
puffed dresses like lilies.

Lake swallows, spits out the pips
leaves me alone.

Mountain path pulls me up.
Barefoot, picking my way between stones
following river path to spring’s source
for my human body to soak up.
When I find it, I’ll stay there
living off berries, leaves, grubs,
setting my day by the sun.


Written by Mel Parks in collaboration with Sarah Bell from @spoiltvictoriannchild. Image by Pam Tinning.

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