The Brambles Poem by Jill Shah

There once was a girl who lived in a garden amongst brambles

Along the side of a sunny green, gently-sloping hill covered in soft stones.

She would often gather the stones out of the garden as the

Brambles would dance and mingle in the middle of it.

She gathered stones of plastic, stones of gold and iron, stones shaped like

The earth, like numbers, like letters, made of marble or bones.

As she was gathering stones one day, a wandering beast stopped

To gaze at her and her horde of stones, greed glowing in its eyes

He stole away the girl with the help of a fox, dressed her in stones and

Led her, hands held, up the soft green hill.

Startled at first, the girl soon loved the attention, the carpet of stones before

Her, the brambles bowing at her feet, the strength of the comforting paws.

Soon, though, the landscape of sun and singing brambles gave way to an endless

Midnight, caused by a thundery sky.

The brambles twisted into dark and angry, ominous trees, making the way even darker;

The stones suddenly turned sharp and cut into her bloodied feet.

Frightened, she turned to her sources of previous comfort

- The strong paws that held her, the soft, soothing fur.

But the paws now did not feel comforting and safe, they felt vengeful,

Murderous. The fur felt scratchy and irritated her skin, made eyes tear up.

Afraid, appalled, and now alone, she scurried through the woods,

Looking desperately for more stones.

But the woods hid them too well, the darkness concealed them,

Forcedly, she turned back to the beasts, and came to the sight

Of their hands waiting expectantly for stones, impatience in their eyes,

But she had nothing to give them; she just thought they were her friends.

The girl was saddened, shocked by this move, her Lassie and Robin Hood fox

Now turned to Pinocchio's sly Foulfellow and Gideon.

Hopelessly, the girl fell to the ground,

Only to look up at a golden bramble that danced in front of her

She learned to trust this bramble and played with it, sang with it, laughed with it,

Confided in it, later saved it from the baneful trees, learned the softness of stones once more.

But the beasts came back, and pulled her away,

Though the girl no longer wished to leave the bramble and face the dark again.

She dropped to her knees in retaliation, let the beasts drag her through

The sharpened stones, leaving a slime trail of blood and hope.

Every tug they gave hurt more, asphyxiated not her lungs, but her mind,

For it was more than the stones that were causing her pain,

A bit of her soul, then her heart, had caught on to the golden bramble

Sitting miles away, and the tugging caused the soul to be pulled taut.

Drowning in agony, the girl looked before her and saw for

The first time, a pinhole of light.

Looking through it, she saw what was to come when she reached

The top. She saw men putting stones into jars. The men said she didn't have

The right stones, the ones they wanted. So they sent her away to the next,

Who only said the same, not caring for the beauties she did have.

The top blurred away, and she saw two paths.

She saw herself gritting her teeth and allowing her soul to tear off.

Her future self now zooming through the top with the right

Stones, the right jars, the proper respect.

At first thought, in her painful delirium, she decided this was the best option –

It is impossible to be hurt, if you have nothing that can feel.

But then she saw her well-to-do self still zoom past all else, and

Promptly fall of the hill, into the looming, deathly river below.

She tried looking through the other path, but

The soul holding her back pulled to its end. There was no time any longer.

Hoping for the best, hoping for goodness, for hope,

She rolled along her soul, back to the bramble. They searched together

And finally found the softest stones in the dark woods, and happily

Followed the path of soft stones, out to the side of the hill.

It was not the top, but the girl was happy. She had the stones she found most beautiful,

She had the side of the hill, a gently sloping, green land, covered

In the softest,

Mosaic

Of stones.

And her

Brambles.