She had been asleep a lifetime. Waiting to be awakened, her Pandora’s box of dreams locked up tight in the dark corner. She didn’t remember now what little poisonous prick had caused her unnatural sleep, and just as forgotten was the prince that was supposed to kiss her awake for her life to begin. She remembered asking “mirror, mirror…” and couldn’t remember why that had been so important to her since she knew, deep down, that she was the mirror.
She realized slowly over eons, that we were all sleeping beauties waiting to rise and fulfill our fairy tales, but we had all been taught to wait, to endure, to accept. She grew tired of lying there, all chaste and lovely, while the world of possibilities danced around her ivory tower. Some were waiting patiently to be loved, she knew, but in her opinion, she thought she should just get up and love herself. She was aware of how everyone looked endlessly for it, and she was fed up with that when love should be searching for her. “Love will save us” everyone whispered. But she shook her fist to the sky and shouted…
“I will save myself!”
She heaved an exasperated (yet delicate, and socially acceptable) sigh of frustration, and rolled out of the fancy bed. Her joints were stiff from lack of use, and she stretched herself as she looked around the tower room that had no door. She noticed a tarnished mirror, a sword, and a pile of armor. Her long hair trailed behind her on the floor as she crossed to the only window to look out and get the lay of the land. Far below she saw piles of rusted suits of armor, and assorted weapons obviously left there when the Knights of Old got sick of trying to figure out a way up to save her. She rolled her eyes and turned towards the room once again.
She stalked to the mirror and inquired of it in a soft yet determined voice.
“Mirror, Mirror on the wall
that is just too steep a fall
so pray tell share what I must give
to free myself and let me live?“
The mirror shimmered and hummed as it reflected her image and her words into the room. Moments passed before its surface cleared to give her the answer she sought. It finally came to her in symphonic tones that brought relief and beauty to a heart still fighting desperately to remain closed up tight in the tower.
“Child of magic, child of light
you’ve been hidden, now you fight.
You have all you need to free
the person you were meant to be”
She looked down at her gown, and over her shoulder at the length of hair trailing behind her. She carefully braided her hair, knelt to pick up her sword, and sliced her braid free, coiling it carefully by the window. She sorted out the pile of copper armor that reminded her of the taste of blood in her mouth from biting back her words in the past. After careful deliberation she left it there, preferring to be brave enough to let life pierce her straight through the heart if need be, if that’s what it took to be truly free.
She was willing to expose her damage and her fury in honor of her regenerating heart. She would not turn her back on herself again. She would not wait for advice or permission or prince charming. Hell no.
She tossed her braid over the ledge, secured it to the bed, and threw her leg over the window sill. She looked over her shoulder one last time and smiled at herself in the mirror on the wall, where she’d learned to love herself, and honor her heart.
She was fierce, she was bad-ass, and she was jumping.
Are you coming?