Primrose Moonflower
Hello dear wanderer,
My name is Primrose Moonflower, but you can call me Prim. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? Most days are, but Spring is finally here, and it has a way of highlighting beauty that often gets overlooked.
Days like this remind me of a poem my mother would recite to me every Spring Equinox.
She was a lover of stories, my mother. Which made perfect sense, since her gift was wielding words. Her powers had half the kingdom terrified, and the other half envious. Many people sought her out to ask her to speak wealth and beauty into their lives. She didn’t mind healing the sick or boosting some confidence, but those who came asking for curses or control… they were often left disappointed, or dead.
She always loved spring. She would deny it every time I asked, but I’m pretty sure her words are the reason today is my birthday. I can practically see her in my mind; barefoot and kneeling on the ground, hands in the dirt, by small body inside hers as she declared, “Today you are born.” This equinox was her favorite. “It’s where the cycle ends and begins again; an opportunity to plant new seeds.” she’d say.
We were never invited to the kingdom's solstice celebrations. The king had once asked my mother to use her words to give him power; she refused. He threatened to kill me, and to keep me safe, she made a vow to never set foot inside the castle walls, and the king never set foot outside of them. Fear is his motivator, and will ultimately be his undoing. His small, unused brain doesn’t realize that his counsel already has control of the throne, he’s just a figurehead who holds no power.
I didn’t inherit my mother's power, so I could technically attend the celebration now that she’s gone. But my power is even more dangerous than hers was… my power could destroy the kingdom. While her power was attached to her will, mine is rooted in my emotions. It makes sex fantastic! But my rage could start a war.
Which is why I’m here, sitting in this tree, on my birthday, as the sun rises into spring. I have learned to appreciate my solitude, and I’ve found ways to manage my emotions… kind of. Avoiding others helps, even though loneliness can creep in and blot out the sun above me in clouds of gray. Grief brings with it a downpour, so I have learned to shift my thinking when I feel those things. “I’m not lonely, I am keeping the kingdom safe. I don’t ache for my mother, I’m grateful I had her.” It works, sometimes, but some days I just let it rain and savor the drowning.
Winter feels heavier than the other seasons. It is naturally darker, so it amplifies loneliness and grief. I understand why plants and animals hibernate, I would too if I could sleep that long. Sleeping is risky for me, not so much when I’m out here in the forest alone; but I haven’t figured out how to control my dreams, and sometimes the emotions they inspire can cause chaos and destruction. That’s probably why no one visits these woods; I’m a monster they don’t know is here.
Oh look, a fox has left her burrow. It looks like she’s about to have her kits. Food is still a bit scarce at the moment, but I’m sure she will find something to sustain her through the birth of her cubs. Another reminder of my mother’s words.
Right! I was going to share a poem with you. My mind is easily distracted by stories. I suppose that’s a part of my mother that lives within me. Alright, before these clouds turn into a spring storm, let’s see if I can remember mother's poem, “The house that Spring Built.”
The House That Spring Built
One early spring morning
Down a muddy gravel road
Stood a house that sat abandoned
Or perhaps that that was just the lie it told
The windows were all boarded
The doors were locked up tight
The roof was missing some shingles
And the foundation leaned a bit to the right
The sun was shining in the distance
Casting an illuminating glow
Kissing the cold earth with its warmth
Saying, “It’s safe to grow.”
Birds sang from the rafters
Deer wove through the trees
Nature always felt magical
On mornings like these
A clanging sound quickly followed
By some shuffling and a clatter
Animals had made this house a home
And knocked over a latter
A few mice and some insects
A porcupine and a couple of cats
Two seemed just enough
To manage the number of rats
A fox moved in a week ago
Making a home in one of the tubs
She was preparing for the impending arrival
Of her three growing cubs
Flowers had bloomed in the windowpanes
Ivy climbed the walls
The floor was littered with droppings and dirt
And a long-forgotten doll
As time went by, nature expanded
Trees and bushes grew
Building a fence of greenery
Hiding the house from view
More animals moved in over time
As spring fully came into bloom
The plant life took over decor
Until there was not more vacant room
Life had moved in with spring
And made this dying house a home
A reminder to all who feel forgotten
You are never truly alone
Nature never leaves you
It cradles you even in death
Life exists within you
Even after your last breath
Mother really did have a way with words. She fit fables into prose like story telling was her native tongue. A part of me wishes I had just a smidgen of her gift; that I could comfort myself with soliloquies of love and sing songs of hope that would linger. I’ve tried to do that in the past, but I’m only able to feel the emotions while the words leave my mouth; once they are finished, the emotions fade and rain drops fall. I won’t stop saying them though, or reciting mother’s words. Perhaps if my fear can ripple out, so can my love.
Thanks for sitting with me today and listening to the poem. I know you only stopped by for a visit, but it was nice to have the company. There were no storms on the horizon in this corner of the kingdom, so if clouds roll in… sorry about the rain.
