I was walking affectionately
on the light through the looking glass
— what precarious equilibrium —
when the very thin darkness
started to choke me
I spent the night
with some angels
who were lingering on
their boots were all
worn down
from too much walking;
I asked them for a delay,
but they would not hear of it,
they would not agree,
so they put a flower
between my lips
to remind me of duty and comfort;
I was saved and
teardrops trickled down my cheeks
for the nights to come;
the angels examined me
and taught me how to sing
the ballad for Dreamland
nicely and sweetly,
they rotated their wings
to signal the alliance
between Heaven and Earth,
they surrounded me, repeating that
“you mustn’t cry
when you sing this ballad,
you must sing it resolutely,
as the former soldiers
used to do,
you foolish woman,
you should be flattered
that you can walk
through the looking glass!
It is a blasphemy
to whisper
the ballad to Dreamland!”