“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” J. M. Barrie
Ms Fairy Dust Brain
Cultivating Neverland Within — While Growing Up
If you believe, he shouted to them, clap your hands; don’t let Tink die — J.M. Barrie
Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, For I would ride with you upon the wind — William Butler Yeats
Once upon a time, someone called me Ms. Fairy Dust Brain. A compliment until my avoidance of concrete paths, my insistence on flying wheresoever intuition and whimsey led me grew irksome, wrong, repellent —
no longer a hearth, a hideout from the hidebound in a tree of unfettered life but a plank I failed to recognize I was walking – croc’s jaws arising from inevitability’s flow and, in one snap, sharp as a slap, devouring all light.
Or so my mind saw it.
Mysterious mind, mischievous as Tinker Bell, I have come to believe in fairies far more than I do you.
Which means I believe in me.
I cultivate Neverlands of tiger lilies dancing in abandon with scent upon compost heaps of hot-house cultivars bred for outward appearance alone.
At last, Ego’s Oscar-winning facades and projections neither hook nor hoodwink me.
Suddenly, so effortlessly — I have ceded the lead to my lush, exuberant heart
and grown up.
©Jenine Bsharah Baines 2024
A poem sparked by Liberty Forrest, Author’s quest and question:
Thank you, Liberty, for the home within Hope, Healing, and Humour. Thank you, dearest readers. Love.
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