Off the Rails
Good girl mostly,
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
