The Faeries Amongst Us
Tales about faeries of the past,
seem so out of place in our urban landscape.
Yet, I will tell you of the children with mixed magic blood in their veins and smog in their lungs.
I’ll tell you of those unknowingly descended from the faeries, living amongst us.
You might not believe me, but you can see a fairy in the ballerina leaping in the air. Hovering above the ground for a second too long. As she feels for a moment, what it is to be free.
I will tell you a story of the pharmacist, administering medicine without referring. She closes her eyes and mixes and stirs. Shaking up the bottle, drink 3 times a day. As you see the liquid swirl under her deft fingers, you wonder inside, that she has witch blood.
You barely notice the one with the blood of wood nymphs, watering her plants. Sparing them barely a glance, but her balcony garden flourishes and blooms, greener than others.
You see the fine worksmanship of that apprentice, far preceding that of his master. You see him hard at work, furrowed brow, slightly shorter than you. He twists the gold and delicate metal, and in the light of the furnace, you see reflected the blood of the goblin.
So, close you eyes and listen out. You might hear the singing of that sweet soprano as she smile with fans fauning over her. You blink as she dazzles in the stage light, a siren at heart, she belongs to the sea.
Even amongst us, hidden even from ourselves, pulses the blood of old, the blood of faeries, the blood of our ancestors. Maybe you see better in the dark, maybe your hearing is a bit sharper, maybe you have vampire blood, maybe your grandmother was a werewolf...
But we’ll never know. The secrets remain hidden unless you search much deeper within.
Remind me to tell you,
of the stories of old,
now the stories of of new,
the stories of us