30/30 #9 Baba Yaga Speaks

The prompt for today is to write a persona poem — a kind of dramatic monologue. To pick a character to inhabit — a person from history, an imaginary or mythical person (like Snow White or Zeus), or just someone you’re not  and write in their voice.

I choose to write my poem in the persona of Baba Yaga.


Baba Yaga Speaks
The road is treacherous,
A hero’s walk,
Though little children find it,
Easily enough.

Where a man may shake with fear
At the heads speared on the gate,
The little child stands,
Wide eyed, in fascination.

My meager shack,
Crooked and flooded by rains,
Shames the women in town
Who warn their children to stay away.

Only the poorest child comes willingly.
Not put out by a little work,
To get the fire lit,
Or mash the grain.

This hut stands on two legs
Cut from a chicken and
Imbued with old magicks.
Moving in the cover of night.

When the towns people
Have come too close,
With their fear, and
Pitchforks, and lanterns.

They say I eat the children.
Steal them in the night from their beds.
Lure them with treats to the woods.
Trick them, into my pot.

I do no such thing.
Though it is true when they visit me,
The children are no more.
They’ve been set to task.

Setting down childhood,
They leave my little shack
Heroes seeking their obstacles,
Blessed by an old root witch.


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