Carving Out a Path

In which the un-Fairy Tale currently in progress is interrupted for a poem, which will make much sense when our tale resumes.

From a Woman's Life
by Maura Eichner


What Mary knew was just
enough for the usual day;
pull water, flint fire, bake
bread, smile, pray

the dark orations, sleep, wake
wait. When pain honed a nerve,
when birth or dying clotted
an hour, she leaned to the curve

of living, resilient to fear,
laughter, suffering.
Partings are a little death.
Each one's journey is a thing

wholly without precedent.
She looked at the sky
for compass. None. She, too,
created a road to travel by.