She dreams her independence in lyrical escape. Safely sheltered in butteflies and perfumed meadows. She is free-born and self-possessed. Nestled in sunshine embraces and azure admiration.
In the quiet still of imagination’s repertoire, she tries on the mantle of dancer, piper and earth-bound saint. Of beachcomber and poet. A lovely face among the crowd, strolling the shops and drinking iced lattes. A traveler in the throes of life’s adventures and delights. An amazon warrier who champions the weak and unloved.
She stops to sit by a whispering lake that is still as glass and pure with truth. “May I stay here?” she asks. And then, like her dream, independence dissolves. The lake replaced with a bathroom mirror that reports two-fisted violence. Whose calling card says, anger and hate. That leaves its mark in greens, blues and deep violet.
And before she can recapture her dream and freedom’s wings, a door slams. Now. The nightmare. Returns.