lantern waste

Parcels,

packages,

presents:

all under the arms of a friend.

His red, wooled scarf pulling and piling.

He searches her eyes with caution.

It is unheard of to see a daughter of Eve roaming in the heart of Narnia.

Wardrobe? Spare oom?

If only he had worked harder at His geography,

He’d doubtless know all about these strange countries.

As my feet tread the ground that is Aslan’s Country,

the cold melts away.

Everything from the lamp post,

all the way to Cair Paravel on the eastern ocean.

Every stick and stone I see,

every icicle,

is Narnia.

He introduces himself, and I to him.

A fawn, from the caves of Lantern Waste.

A girl, from the shining city of Wardrobe,

in the wondrous land of spare oom.

“How would it be, if you came and had tea with me?”

---

A glorious fire with toast! tea! cakes! blessings!

We talked for the Lion, and His long awaited return.

We talked of the days of Summer, the days of His salvation,

well into the night, past the second light’s rising.

He knew I would one day journey,

deeper into the Wood,

to reach Him:

Son of God.

All the way from Western to Shuddering wood,

over River Rush and Dancing Lawn,

placed in Narnia, for His will.

---

What an awfully big wardrobe.

- A.D.