at last the girl turns
unordinary knocks at doors
there we knock back
it opens I see nothing
for us very spooked
                    
she have long journey yet to come
the chains we have she can’t brake
she eats apples of knowledge
With riddles of grubs and acrid

food that give her life
farm girl like a charitable
to pass out what holds
puckered but in her mouth
on her tongue traces of ash

what she have lost that’s not joy
flares of wildfires
shine as it will
darkness gone common happiness?
she eats bread plain and
the old knowledge apple

it gripes her some time
to think about what she do sometimes

these day the old ashen apple
from the farm poisoned soils.
she must eat to
travel the long road and brake the chains
after all, even if  she come
to the ordinary doors of death
what time for her to smile.