If my cards had been dealt differently,
If my father had been less poor, or less desperate,
My hair mouse-brown or my teeth crooked,
There would have been no need for a lie.

I might have remained as I was, the miller’s daughter,
Marrying the village blacksmith, whom I loved as
He loved me.
I might have been a wife content in a cottage, not
A prisoner queen quaking in a castle.

If my stars had aligned and I, touched by magic, had
Spun the straw myself,
I would not have made the bargain.

If I had not borne a child, there would have been no
Need for secrecy, no terror of loss, no guilt.
I could have slept dreamless, safe,
Never fearing some ominous knock at my door.

If the little man had not offered me three days;
If the messenger had not chanced upon the place
Where the fox and hare say good-night;
If the little man had not happened to be
Hopping before the fire,
Calling out his true name

If ….

[Written by Deborah Sage.]