Night-Walking (We Must Step Out the Door)

I have to walk alone tonight.

I have parked my car safely, legally,

and now, with fear as my escort,

I lean my soft body towards a far friendly door, 

not knowing what I’ll meet along the way.

I sense toothy wolves in the dark patches,

then try to shake away the feeling, 

though I know the wolves are real.

We have all encountered them.

I have been cornered by a few.

Though my past wolves were

never creeping out on warm nights,

their images come easily in the dark, 

and their teeth were sharp.

I pace pavement past private lots

and empty spots saved for souls with 

true bodily restrictions

even heavier than my fears. 

I have no such external restraints, 

instead am shackled from inside

by fears that lock me in, make me depend,

fears that stop my blood from running.

Where are safe paths for scared women? 

Where are the harbors that close

wild breathless gaps between carriage and hearth? 

We are afraid to walk out, some of us, 

who know that Red Riding Hood was ravished in the woods, 

then ravaged by the wolf with the big smile.

I wish for freedom. 

I wish for fiery bands of angels

to hover over me when I step out…

spirits of all Red Riding Hoods and grandmothers. 

I wish for a bright cloud of ghosts

of women who were shaken,

women who were taken.

a multitude of women-spirits once shrunken,

now grown vast and white-hot and loud like banshees, 

screaming earth-rot and vengeance onto men with trespassing

 thoughts, 

so that not one crooked impulse could cross the mind of a man

without humbling his blood in the terror of mortal 

insignificance.

Then we would be even, women and men. 

Sometimes I can feel the tower of guardians over me, 

pulling me past my fears, 

ferrying me through shadows, 

lighting my way from above, from behind, 

from time past, from inside.

But where are my bold angels on this dark night?

Why, when I need their voices, are they still silent?

Why, when I need light, do they hide their fire?

Where are safe paths for scared women? 

Where are safe paths for Sacred Woman?

To walk her healing through the world, 

She must first step out the door.

© Laura Seale, 2015

Little Red Riding Hood by Jessie Willcox Smith, 1911
from Wikimedia Commons