I don’t know where you are. I heard you are not breathing anymore.
But yesterday a little birdie told me you are not completely gone just yet.
People assume you are famous for your beauty, but how many souls know what a beautiful mind you have. I’ve seen so many princesses while I crossed the borders, from what I acknowledge they live in a perfect little bubble with chiffon and tule dresses and silk shoes to walk on their lavish gardens.
And you walk in the woods with your little boots, picking berries and flowers to live. Berries for the tummy and flowers for the soul you said. Your woods is not my usual path to cross the border but seven full moons ago I had the feeling I have to go down that road. And right then I met you. Although you looked away from me, I came and talked to you.
People know about your snow-white-skin, the red blush on your cheeks and your black-as-night-hair. People fuzz about them, your step mother feels threatened of them.
Why do people like packages? Packages are degradable, they don’t last longer than the life of bees during the summer. They should know how smart you are and how humbled you are the more you see of the world, ever since you left that palace.
Your words often surprised me, as if you could read my mind. I agreed with you so many times and when I don’t we had an even better conversation. After so many years going on the trips alone, and even though I got to meet people from many nations and languages, talking to you stimulates my body and mind – being with you feels like home to me. I thought to stay, but I didn’t and instead I asked you to leave with me. I didn’t know about your psycho step mom then. I thought you were a free commoner and your answer “No” to me felt like a rejection. So that was the last time I saw you, it was a long time ago. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure things out. I guess I’m just a man, we love to simplify things so much you know.
Wherever you are, Snow White, I hope you can listen to these whispers.
I know they say your heart stopped beating too, but in its sleep I hope it still remembers me. I got down on my knees and pray to God who stroke his hand and created the great mountains, who dove to the deepest darkest ocean and blew the breath of life to the creatures beyond the bottom. For whatever has happened to you, Snow White, it’s not gonna be my will or my words which can save you – it’s his mercy.