Rescue
I’ve made it
through the tangled, thorny forest
where the bodies of would-be victors lie,
all glow-in-the-dark bones
beneath the full-moon sky.
I’ve made it through passwords
and riddles,
traps and duals,
kicks and slaps and ridicule,
Rumplestiltskin dancing, mocking
on piles of spinning wheels,
pricking my fingers on the greed of kings.
I’ve made it through curses
and evil spells,
avoided bottomless wishing wells
and ingratiating wolves -
and here I stand,
battered and bruised for sure,
bleeding, tired and sore -
but hale and hearty and strong,
with plenty of fight in my body and mind -
and with my sights
set.
The castle is quiet and dark and still
in this middle of the night,
and the drawbridge is down.
I leave my sword in its sheath -
I know all the dragons
and they’re on my side -
and climb the spiral stairway
to the highest tower,
growing wings
as I climb and casting off
years of fears
and caution
and stealth.
The topmost chamber door’s flung wide.
I’m here, and ready
to rescue Myself.
* * *
(This poem first appeared in the author's recently released poetry collection Dance of the Phoenix).
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