Camouflaging Beauty

Once upon a time, in a land in the shadows of reality...

a place on the outskirts of time, actually -- 

so not upon time at all, but rather in spite of time --

This is where a sad creature named Camouflaging Beauty

hid.

Leafy Sea Dragon

Photograph by Armand Poblete

Camouflaging Beauty had only a vague recollection of the true reason she had slipped into hiding -- 
only that hiding had become her way of survival, 
her way of life (if one could call it that).

A dark shadow moved across the waters of her home

at irregular intervals, 

leaving her on the edge of herself,

far from her center.

The shadow was the deformed son of Narcissus, 

a goblin-of-sorts named Toadly --

one cursed to never be fully seen 

for the mantle of lies he wore as a cloak.

Toadly had spied Beauty, bathing among the rushes 

on the edge of the dark sea,

trying in vain to hide her tears that made the waters rise

deeper and deeper.

Toadly did not notice her red-rimmed eyes,

nor the deep aching hollow they surrounded --

tunnels to her wounded heart,

pathways intended for healing.

So enamored of her body, Toadly slipped silently to her side,

enveloping her in his shadowy cloak

impregnating her with his seed and pulling her under.

It didn't take long for Beauty to realize that the shadow was holding her captive,

sucking the life out of her.

But as he held her children for ransom,

she did not leave.

She learned that showing herself as anything but the image he idolized

would cause the shadow to rage,

so she hid, and became

Camouflaging Beauty.

Did she, like her sister Sleeping Beauty,

await some awakening from this state 

so unbefitting her possibilities?

Awakening comes,

as it always does,

by varying avenues,

wearing multiple faces...

Sometimes it forces itself

like Basile's Sole, Luna, e Talia,

impregnating with hope,

against the will of the hopeless.

The cloak Toadly had given her as his gift of betrothal

was a cloak of hopelessness.

Within it seeds of hope seemed so out of place

that she hid them,

camouflaged. 

Hope from without 

is stillborn in despair.

It must rise from within

to bring courage

to break through the surface,

burst forth and fill the lungs with sweet, misty air.