Once Upon a Time
Every one of my poems,my stories, my songs,
could start this way: Once upon a time. Once, I was a child;
once (but no more)
upon a time
I was a child. I did not know childish things.
I did not know
a mother's kiss
or a father's lap
or that such things
existed,
once upon a time. The tower was bricked up
around me,
the briars grew
around it
and all the while,
I slept inside myself
wondering if,
once upon a time,
I might have known
these things. No prince came,
but rather,
I packed up tower,
briars, stones and all,
put them in an old, green bag
and, still sleeping,
began the long walk
though the woods. Once upon a time,
it seems so long ago,
I walked down coyote road,
down through the briars,
through the mud,
with lice in my hair and
fleas on my skin,
I went down the long road,
searching. I endured horrors;
they were gifts.
I received many gifts
that were horrors.
None of these were
what I sought
though each
led the way. Now, once upon a time
was so very long ago
I no longer know
where the road began
nor if it ends. I have found
that which I sought,
yet, once and always,
I go on.
