how can roses bloom in a thicket of lies
the townspeople never asked
the ones who kept her legend alive,
the Princess Aurora.
sleep where there is no dawn
but empires poorly run
the evil fairy screamed.
dream, though the world
seems a nightmare.
this small children knew
and they grew up
to know it even more.
and closed their ears in school
when errant teachers droned
dream is an insubstantial verb,
what can you do when every word’s ill spun
that’s bright and winged and wants to sing
is shot down; then the fogs roll in
and misanthropes hold sway
who think they own the day
and put the Sun in chains.
and tell you how to
rearrange the furniture of your Soul.
I don’t care how many naysayers say
the truth is not the truth
I’ll never swallow it whole.
the rose still bloomed in a thicket of lies
more roses, besides
and truth, real truth
can never be undermined.
mary angela douglas 3 october 2018
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