THE PRINCESS OF THE DARK CLOAK by Pricilla Cogan

Once upon a time there lived a little girl with dark hair and a sweet smile and a wish that everybody would like her. This little girl was a princess who lived in a dark, dark castle -- not at all like the beautiful castles in the fairy tale books. She lived in the dark, sooty castle with her family -- the King, the Queen, brothers and sisters, and just lots of people and lots of noise. There were few places this little girl could find peace and quiet except in her books, her daydreams and her lively imagination. On rare occasions the sun would peak out through the clouds, over the castle walls, and bathe her in the golden light. And oh! This little girl would tuck that in her memory to make it last that much longer, the warming sun. For love was to her like the warming sun, to hold, to treasure, to keep alive even in the midst of the darkest day and the dampest night. Her mind worked overhard in thinking of ways to keep the sun shining, to make others love her and hardest of all, in the midst of the darkness, to find ways she could keep that sun close to her heart, so that she could love.
But the nights were cruel and the winter was overlong. The little girl found herself growing colder and colder, as the dampness soaked into her very being, as the wind whipped mercilessly about her bare legs. The King and Queen were so busy with their own world they didn't even notice that their little girls clothes were tattered and torn, and she was afraid to tell them, lest they get angry with her.

For this little girl was Very Afraid of their anger, for like all royalty, the a King and the Queen were very demanding and not the least bit sympathetic to their subjects, nor their children. For like many rulers, they were very imperial in their demands, commanding their people to do this, do that, act in this way, act in that way. Why they even demanded that everyone feel, think, and do just as they commanded. The little girl soon discovered that if she had a feeling, or a thought, all her own, the King would say, "Humbug, that's not right! What do you know?" and then proceeded to tell her what was right. The Queen would say, "You're just a little girl. Of course, you don't feel that way. Who ever heard of such a thing? Why, it's just your imagination!" This left the little girl very, very afraid because the world was not what it seemed to be, according to her feelings, her thoughts and her perceptions.

So she quickly learned that it wasn't safe to tell people what she saw, what she felt, what she knew to be true and keeping it all inside, the little girl discovered an even more bitter cold as she faced the outside world.

Despite the freeze and the bitter cold, she didn't die, she fought to survive.

She found a cloak of just the right size for her small shivering body. A cloak that was all black on the outside in which she could hide; a place of safety and warmth, and all red on the inside, a warm color, the color of the hot sun with which she surrounded herself. Wrapped in this cloak, the little girl knew she was safe.

The black cloak disguised her feelings well, so that the King and Queen didn't punish her as much or even notice her that much; The little girl kept secret the brilliant red, wrapping it tightly about her to keep her warm in the fires of the heart.

It Was also a cloak of many pockets, big pockets and small pockets, all contained within the inner red lining that nobody but our little princess knew about. And like all little girls, she would collect things and stash them in her pockets, until even she forgot about them.

When something made her sad, a harsh word, a look of contempt, she'd take the blue mood and stuff it into one of her pockets, so as to keep it hidden from everyone Out There. Or when she'd feel purplish with rage, wanting to strike out an hurt those who hurt her, she'd take that, too, and stuff it into an inner pocket.

Her pockets grew full with all their stuffings. When lonely, the little girl would create a playmate, that only she knew she had, to play with, to talk to, to laugh with, in secret and when with others, knowing better, the little girl stuck her playmate in a pocket for future use. She was quite clever because all on her own she held true to her feelings, her perceptions, only keeping them hidden form Out There.

Time passed, and the princess began slowly to blossom as all little girls do. In Spring she felt the first stirrings of life, of creation, of sensuality as the flowers opened up their buds from the long winter nap.

yet no one -- not the Queen, not the King, no one -- told her about all these new feelings stirring up inside her, and so that, too, she learned guard and pocket deep inside of herself. No one knew of the spring inside her, the wild rush of life. All they knew was the Princess of the Dark Cloak.

Pretty soon there were young men coming round the castle door, wanting to meet the Princess of the Dark Cloak. There were things she had to learn. And she became busy and busier the older she grew. So busy that all the stuffed pockets of this and that, old feelings, old playmates, old parts of herself were soon forgotten.

And like all princesses, eventually this one wed her prince and left the big, dark, noisy, gloomy castle to find a home of greater sunshine and more love than she thought possible.

Known as the Princess of the Dark Cloak, she kept it as her trademark, so that everyone would know who she was, even though it was awfully small for an adult and awfully lumpy with all those stuffed inner pockets and slowly fraying on the edge from so many years of wear and tear.

Until there came a day, a long time after leaving home, she walked by a mirror and perchance saw herself in the old cloak. For lately she had been finding it hard to move about, increasingly difficult to breathe, as if she were smothering or choking, all tight inside and constricted. She looked in the mirror to make sure that ropes didn't bind her arms, as everything began to press in on her and scare her.

In the mirror she saw how small was her cloak and how big she had grown, how the buttons in front could barely keep from popping, how her arms extended way beyond the sleeves and her knees appeared exposed. Most of all she saw how tight the cloak bound her so that she couldn't breathe right. It was heavy, so heavy that it exhausted her to wear it, but she had quite forgotten the pockets crammed with this and crammed with that.

Now being the Princess of the Dark Cloak, she had never never taken it off. For hadn't the cloak been the very thing to save her life in the time of the Bitter Cold? So, as she looked at her reflection, she didn't know what to do.

At first she just wished the pain, the tightness of breath would disappear, that somehow the cloak would magically enlarge and give her room to move about in but wishing is wishing, and wishing didn't remove the heaviness that had settled into her. Then she decided just to live with the pain, and for a very, very long time she struggled with the cloak's weight and increasing heaviness until all her joints hurt, and still the cloak bound her too tightly. For it was a child's cloak, and the Princess had become a woman.

Doctors from far and wide came and gave her drugs, to kill the pain, to give her sleep, but none looked beyond the Princess of the Dark Cloak to the real problem, underneath.

Finally an old woman appeared, for she saw the Princess was in pain and was scared and confused and feeling all alone. The Princess besought this old woman to help her, for the pain was growing worse and the heaviness unbearable.

The old woman of many wrinkles told her that deep inside the cloak were many pockets, all stuffed with bits and pieces from the princess' life. Blue fabric from the times of deep sadness, purple from the times of rage, old playmates from the time of childhood, protectors from the time of dark pain. Pockets and pockets, frozen in time, forgotten by her a long time ago. The old woman told her the heaviness came from carrying all this unattached weight, instead of wearing it.

The Princess studied this old woman carefully, wondering indeed if this woman was just a doddering old fool or if she really knew something about her that she had forgotten. Warily, cautiously, the Princess inquired, "How do I get rid of this tiredness, this unattached weight?" Then she studied the old woman, in uncertain disbelief.

It took a long time for the old woman to answer, a thoughtful time. She warned the Princess, "It will take a long time, to grow free of this forgetting. It will take a long time to forget to fear. It will take a long time to remember that before the Princess of the Dark Cloak there was the Princess, and that the cloak was just a mantle to cover her and keep out the bitter cold. The old woman chided her, "You look in the mirror, my Princess and see for yourself the Princess of the Dark Cloak. I look in the same mirror and see the Princess, you."

The Princess now was very confused; Not knowing the difference in the mirror's reflection.

Still the old woman spoke, "It will take a long time and you will need to learn to sew, and stitch, and seam, for inside of those forgotten pockets are all the bits and pieces of you, frozen in time, forgotten in time, just jammed down deep and covered up by your black cloak. Slowly, you must examine these pockets, pull out their contents, remember them, give them your respect, for they are parts of you, needing to be honored, needing to be updated. Those parts which are useful to this time, this place, you must take and sew into the fabric of your cloak, into the fabric of your being, so that the cloak becomes a rainbow of colors."

Still these words frightened, nay, terrified the princess because, at least, she KNEW the dark cloak well. Her parents, her husband, her friends all knew her well as the Princess of the Dark Cloak. The dark cloak had fitted well in the darkness of her childhood castle, but she was not one to wear her feelings on her sleeve.

The old woman sensed her terror and spoke of it, "Yes, my dear, it is frightening to think that one can't stitch the fabric, unless the cloak is off and before you. You still fear the cold, the bitter winds, you doubt today's sunshine and tomorrow's dawn. At times you seek the darkness of sleep before the darkness of anticipation. There is pain in remembering, but remember this too: The pockets contain sunshine as well as sadness, Joy and playfulness as well as rage, Moments of triumph as well as pain, old friends as well as enemies."

The Princess listened thoughtfully to these words, so full of questions and confusion, wanting to forget, wanting to remember, and mostly just feeling dread of old dank castles and dark times. "How do I begin? Where do I find a thread strong enough? What will the cloak look like when I'm finished with it? And where will I find the courage to do this?"

The old woman smiled and replied, "The little girl is our beginning, the little girl before the dark cloak with all the pockets, before all the forgetting, the little girl who lives in the dark castle. We will pick her up and hold her close. We will protect her and bring her into the sunshine of today; You and I will love this little girl, this little girl who is you. She is our beginning, but the thread we will use will be that of an adult who has grown strong over the years and stands on her own two feet, under no one's dominion but her own. The courage of one who has survived. We must honor that courage, you and I."

The old woman continued, "The new cloak will be a long time in the making, full of new and startling colors, no longer just a solid steady black. It will be a cloak big enough to wrap all the way around you and still give you room to grow in, to breathe freely, to love in and be loved. It will be a cloak without gaps and hidden pockets, but one that honors you and what you have experienced. It will be not just a cloak of history, but a cloak of today and for your future."

The Princess knew down deep that when she was very, very young she had found a way to capture a piece of sunlight and put it close to her heart, to warm her and keep her safe in the darkness. Now the darkness felt as if it were gaining on her except for the words of the old woman who promised her the sun, with all its glare, but all its warmth, if she set forth on the task before her.

The End

After the story, it says, you little ones who have just heard this story may feel that you, too, live in a tight coat with lots of pockets and hidden places. It may feel warm and less frightening inside the coat where it is dark, but it is also tight and hard to breathe in there. Sunshine is wonderful. Feeling safe may take a while, but you learn that your days of pain and abuse are over. Like the Princess of the Dark Cloak,your body has grown too big for your old coat and you, like the Princess, will come out the live in the light.