Being an autistic woman, I have made many wrong choices in life, mostly out of a naive ambiguity. None more challenging than where I now live. In the past I have built a house and sold it. Owned a 4 floor Georgian Mansion and lost it. And now I reside in a council maisonette. It’s not the best place. Here is the fairytale of where I live:
The Good Witch and the Dark Place (A true story)
Once upon a time a Good Witch lived in a place of darkness. Right in the centre of it. Her castle, although small, because it was still a castle, had walls of cement and metal railings. Surrounding her were the other peoples of the ‘Riddle Earth’, who also had dwellings above her, and around her, and some even below her.
That place of darkness, where she lived, was a place where in the past times, murderers were hung until death! Their sad bodies still lay buried somewhere in the unhallowed grounds. That place travellers and vagabonds wandered through and at night the ghosts came out. Hungry ghosts feeding on the darkness.
However the castle where the Good Witch lived was guarded by the Plant Peoples. And a Queen Elderberry tree grew right in front of it’s walls offering regal protection.
The castle glowed with light and love. The hungry ghosts and the darkness couldn’t even see the castle. They did not even know it was there. This is because its walls within and without vibrated higher than the darkness, so in effect the castle was rendered invisible. This is how the Good Witch lived happily, (hopefully not for ever after), in a place full of hungry ghosts and darkness.
The End (for now)
A Place to live
Grey crumbling walls.
Decaying bricks and steel stairways.
Water drips slowly.
Wood panelled windows.
House upon house upon Home.
It’s a place to house people who need a place to live.
Strangers walk through.
Their heads bowed and hooded.
Some don’t look.
Some look too much.
Others spit and look away.
Young and not so young gather in corners drinking beers, jeers and smokes.
Their talking turns to laughter.
Voices get tangled and the poison gets louder and glass gets broken.
Smashed shards left on the ground where children play.
There in this coldness a Woman has made her home.
Soul laid bare, nothing of material value.
Life has brought her and She is settled there for a while.
This place to live is little oasis that radiates light.
For at her table only love is served.
The grey crumbling walls are a sanctuary after all.
~ Kathy Barenskie
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