February #4

Off the Rails

Good girl mostly,

dreams herself

light and white,

fairy-like.

Shivers, though, 

in the night,

when the red

rises inside ...

Or when the black

swirls around her

and she sinks

beneath its tide.

The demons,

the dragons,

the serpents 

invite her.

Tensing her mind,

she locks out

their fearful 

seductions.

So it goes

for the years

of her growing.

Then, explosion.

The rushing red

can't be contained,

the deadly black

won't be denied.

They froth forth

in cataclysmic

eruptions —

then subside.

Slipping and sliding

right off the rails,

she plunges

down the cliff.

Revelation:

she floats on

an ocean

of wondrous calm.

The voices

were always her own.

She opens herself

to their song.

— Rosemary Nissen-Wade