Tuesday, December 14, 2010

the steadfast tin soldier & other meanderings

Imagine what it must be like to be a music box ballerina. They must live for the time when thoughtless hands open their cages and set their souls free. They can dance! Only for a little while, though… What a terrible fate! I wish a steadfast tin soldier for every one of them.

I would like you to be my steadfast tin soldier. What is a delicate, paper castle to me when I could have someone who understands?
But what will be left of our love in the end? A spangle {burned} and a lump of tin {heart-shaped}, lying a pile of ash. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? But beautiful does not mean happily-ever-after. Sadness is beautiful. {I know that boy agrees with me. I once remarked that “sadness is beautiful” and he agreed. A girl protested. But it’s alright… she just doesn’t know. Don’t you think sadness is beautiful?}

Lately, I have found myself, expressing joy through an impulsive but meaningful medley of songs. I let my voice canter unrestrained as I run around and drape myself across banisters. {As if I was starring in my own musical improvisation.} No one has made me feel this giddy in a long time. It’s all because of you. I wonder if you’ll ever know what you've done to me.

So quickly, it seems, my devotion changed. I am not capricious - not in the least! I am the steadfast, tin soldier to my feather-friends. You will find that loyalty runs steadily through my veins, mixing completely with my blood. But it was time. Time to let go. Time to wake-up from my dream of who that boy is and finally see his reality. I shook his dream from my shoulders and it slithered to the floor like a velvety cape. I hadn’t realized how old and worn the fabric was. I know now. And I haven't felt this free, this content in a long time. This story made have a sad ending, but for now I don't care. Even if all that remains will be...

{1st picture found here, 2nd & 3rd picture taken by me from my book of The Steadfast Tin Soldier by Hans Christian Andersen with illustrations by Angela Barrett. The nail-bitten fingers belong to me...}


  1. Your words leave me without breath. This is poetry. "I shook his dream from my shoulders and it slithered to the floor like a velvety cape. I hadn't realized how old and worn the fabric was." Aaaaah. Brilliant.

  2. This is excellent writing! What a nice intriguing opening... such creative expressions. It can be disappointing to see someone for who they are, but eventually the disappointment fades and the truth is most important.

  3. You whisked me away into a fairytale of spinning waltzes and quickening heartbeats. I suppose happily ever afters are meaningless if they are an illusion. Freedom is more important than anything else, and perhaps in time this will turn out to be a happy ending after all.

  4. Jenica: Thank you so much! Your comments bring me such joy, they really do. :)

    Jade: Thank you! It is indeed disappointing but overall (in my case, at least) so wonderfully freeing!

    Thea: Thank you for your lovely comment. I do hope this will end happily but I guess only time will tell. :)

  5. Wow, wow! How pretty!

    I love fairy tales, and Anderson is no exception, but the Steadfast Tin Soldier has always been a tale that made me so sad, I rarely read it as a kid. It still makes me sad now.

    But after reading your heartfelt post, I think I can read it again with more enjoyment. I think you brought out all the loveliness of the story, with more bittersweet and not just bitter.

    Very cool :)

  6. Thank you very much! I'm delighted that I could make you see the Steadfast Tin Soldier in a different light.
    As a child, I always liked the sad fairy tales best, hehe. :)

  7. God I love this. It's incredible. I love the word giddy! I LIVE for giddy!

  8. Thank you! Oh yes, giddy is a wonderful natural high. :)


Silhouettes of a secret. A story told over a cuppa. Or perhaps just sitting on that stone bench, basking in the moonlight... and not saying anything at all.

("I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks." -Shakespeare, Twelfth Night)