Page 145 of Into the Heartless Wood
Somehow
she is as
beautiful
as she is
terrible.
But I could not revile her more.
She has put me in a cage made of bones, so small I must crouch and fold to fit.
Two of her trees bear the cage between them; I am hoisted high on barky shoulders.
With every step, I sway.
With every root
that plunges into the earth
and tears free again,
I am more afraid.
The cage reeks of death.
I wish
that mine
had already found me.
The wood moves and grows, moves and grows.
Six of my sisters flank my mother and the heartless lion,
three on one side,
three on the other.
They wear wooden armor, strapped to arms and chest and legs with vines.
I am horrified they stripped tree bark to clothe themselves.
But they have nevercaredfor the wood where we were born.
They begin to sing,
a war song that shrieks through the air.
The wood roars in answer.
The trees bearing my cage move faster, faster.
I look for my sister with roses in her hair,
but I do not see her.
