A dark and dangerous forest,
She roams, with happiness, bereft.
Slithering creatures of the night
Whisper sensing her plight,
“Come to me! I’ll hold you tight!”
Lost in thinking of the paths that led her there,
She stumbles into the pit of rumination.
A shattering fall that hurts head and heart!
Snarling teeth and gleaming eyes, up above,
Behold the hounds of Netherville!
Claws itching to tear her guts out,
Towards the night sky, they shout,
Proclaiming that the prey is caught.
“Now to bite into the flesh of hope!
Now to shed the blood of dreams!”
Victory in their grasp, so near,
She stands there, soaked in fear.
Resounding roars of past insults,
Thundering trumpets of failed plans,
Crash against the shore of her now.
Her troubles bang the table for a final toast.
The darkest hour descends.
In the corner of the pit, she finds
Hard rock of conflicting voices turning soft.
Quickly that quicksand sneaks near her,
Trying to pull her down to the depths of no-return.
When around and below, darkness looms,
Far off, her ears hear a little bird,
‘Hey! Fly to me. I can teach you to sing’
‘Nay! I cannot show you the scar of my torn wing!’
With impotent words, she stares downwards.
Still, that birdsong, in her mind, echoes.
The sneaking quicksand, off her feet, she throws.
Unceasing snarling, roaring, trumpeting making her meek,
Tear drops of hurt trickle down her cheek.
A wounded bird falls into the pit from nowhere.
Perhaps, the handiwork of another hound up there!
The bird flutters all around,
Shaking its wings,
Struggling to fly and just then,
A flying drop of its blood colors her tears red.
Touched by that cackling fire on a cold night,
Touched by that caressing embrace after a fight,
She stands up, soaring to her full height.
Eyes burning with fury,
She stares back at the gleaming demons,
Like a possessed one,
The pit she thought she couldn’t climb,
She flies with wings she knew not she had.
With the pride of her belief back,
The lioness pounces on that evil pack.
Looming figures that eclipsed the sky,
As a deck of cards, they fall and fly.
Those roars and trumpets grow dimmer,
As she lets her confidence simmer.
Peering down her pit,
She declares to it,
“With brave words, you, I shall cover,
And not let another me suffer.”
Looking up, the curtain of darkness falls away.
The sky envelops her shivering soul,
With the scarlet blanket of possibility.
A spot of orange laughter,
A shade of red passion,
A dash of yellow friendship,
A coat of violet hugs,
Many, many shades, her fingers touch.
Multi-hued threads of life to cling on to.
Closing her eyes, she senses,
The kiss of the morning breeze;
The fragrance of the blooming buds;
The song of the crooning birds.
Wondering, as she steps into the light,
Is this the end of every such night?
She knows not.
Just a thought,
To inscribe with indelible ink,
Of the night she refused to sink.