I Know

Beate Sigriddaughter

Today they took my clothes away. Oh, I know what they want.

I think I still have a right to try and see Brendan sit with me here in this mist, though he is gone now.

I have a right to reject strangers. The woman who says her name is Delia. Perhaps so. The real Delia is a little girl who brings me a trout she has caught to cook at the cabin.

I have a right to spend time with Brian on a cold mountain in Mexico, like the one from the postcard he sent. I want to warn him, that woman with him, she plans to destroy something. I don’t trust her. Already half of his jacket is lopped off.

I have a right to the laughter of my friends, there, in the cathedral, giggling in the vestibule over my fishnet stockings under the prim white organdy, with Brendan already waiting at the altar.

I always liked fairy tales. Who doesn’t? When you are obedient and good, you get rewarded.

It smells strange here.

I have always been obedient. Well, almost always. My skin hurts. Don’t push me like that.

I don’t want that. Gentle. Please.

Maybe this is my reward for obedience. This fog of gentleness. There, a piece of clear sky through the scraps of fog. Brendan again. But I better protect you with mist again. There.

A thick veil. They left me flannel nightgowns and underwear. Soft. It is all I need.

They are so wrong. I still need you, Brendan. You wouldn’t have let this happen. And the children. I need them. Not these impatient impostors. Anyone can use any old name.

I know.

I love the mist in the mountains.

————————————————————————

Beate Sigriddaughter, http://www.sigriddaughter.com, lives and writes in the New Mexico, Land of Enchantment.

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