
A Gretel
lost in deep wood
wandered in search
of breadcrumbs to lead her home;
But finding none,
curled under a sycamore tree
where she waited for the owners
of the gleaming yellow eyes
in the blackness to pounce.
Her sobs conjured a fairy
and angel, both of whom
offered rescue from her plight.
Pressed to choose
between fairy dust
and angel dust — prayer;
she weighed the two
on her mind’s scales:
One sprinkle of fairy dust
would transport her home
in time for warm supper;
Angel dust, on the other hand
demanded lengthy supplication,
an unending supply of faith,
offerings, tithing, fasting;
enduring sermons and revivals,
acting good and being nice.
With mumbled apologies
to the angel, she reached
for the bottle of fairy dust.
