An Embalmer's Fairy Tale

A bite from a poison apple and Snow White falls to the floor,

the apple rolling away from her cream colored hands.

Her breath, like warm air upon skin disappears.

Her eyes like sparkling diamonds close to be seen no more,

as her lips as red as roses lay tightly held together.

Poor Snow White looks so unreal.

With gentle hands our work begins,

without the help of time.

The lines we run,

the blood we drain,

and fluids we use to replace-

helps bring back Snow White's color,

but no more warmth will she ever bring.

We wash her down;

We dress her;

We make her look her best...

Before we lay her in her oak and glass casket for eternal rest.

Her prince may come and kiss her,

the fairy tale's answer for dreams coming true.

But no matter how much or how passionate he kisses her,

to sleep will sweet Snow White ever lie.

Her black hair is fanned out upon the pillow.

Her hands rest together on her womb.

She's lying in an eternal sleep,

that's never to be broken-

For this...is death.

The seven dwarfs she lived with,

tears sting their eyes.

Their beloved Snow White is sleeping,

but she will never rise.

We slowly close the casket to her wooden bed she lays.

Her time is gone,

and to the world-

she'll never be seen again.

Her prince was too late to save his princess.

The dwarfs-out to work.

And so Snow White left this world:

Alone...

 Scared...

 Hurt.

The Evil Queen, she got her wish-

Snow White is finally dead.

The Proof? small children ask.

Her heart in a box in the queen's pale hands.

With tears in their eyes,

the prince  and dwarfs lay their beloved princess to rest.

Lowering her slowly into the cold ground, 

as it closes in around her...

every inch it sinks.

And with heavy hearts, they walk away.

For the fairy tale is over-

For the future queen is in the ground.

And no more fairy tales will anyone read.

So the fairy tale is over dear children,

but what's this? 

You refuse to bed...for fears that this fairy tale will dance in your heads?

Well, not every story a happy ending...

Nor every girl a prince.

Which is why Snow White's story is ultimately it.

Fairy tales are strictly fairy tales-

stories to children at night before bed.

Stories told to those who dear to be a child and dream once again.

Yet forgetting that one day, they too, will come to us-

The receivers of the dead.

For we are the one's who take care of you; 

the one's who prep you for death.

We are the one's who dress you and get you ready for your final scene

Upon the stage of life and death.

Where your hour of fame is everything-

then...

nothing.

We are the one's who care for your family-

the one's who have been kicked to the ground.

Grief and pain washing over them,

down for the final count.

Your family-

who needs us to pull them back up on their feet.

Allowing them to move past these awful days ahead.

And we are the ones who stand in the rain.

Wind howling loudly as your silently laid to rest.

Being neatly tucked away into a hole in the ground.

Edgar Allen Poe's Raven cawing in the steeple above-

"Never More..."

And in the distance church bells mournfully chime out:

Ding...

 Dang...

  Dong...