Two selves clamor,
Crumpling into a ball
Launched into a wastebasket.
Piled with pain of uncertainty,
Clipping her wings and cluttering her life.
The little girl dashes through patches of hanging clouds.
Away from the broken line, she strays—
A sudden screech. Then a bang.
Fallen into fear; far from safety
Blare of sirens summon her sanity.
Her pale flesh lifted from the dark road.
Wrapped in his hands, the questions asked:
Are you a raven?
Are you a hummingbird?
Why are you dreamily unaccomplished?
Softening the wrinkles, she responds
I am a woman on a journey.