I Have Created Myself

On the day the bird takes flight, all will be the same.
A dreary, lint-colored felt will serve as a swath of sky,
paring itself into small circles of blue dreams
from which desperation will seep,
then pour –
and finally inundate
beneath.
But there will be no harbingers to precede
or even tardily accompany her
as these mirrored images are realized, reflected.
The change must – and will – be
a surprise,
apprehended by sudden courage,
instant grace,
and the sum of all sorrows,
failures,
rejections.
In this remedy amounting to triumph with quickened ascent,
all will be the same –
except she will soar in flight,
above the View-Mastered earth, dimensioned in the debris
of its own beauty.
Alone and astonished at her song –
I have created myself –
finally, she sings.
In the rise of her wings and the resiliency of her heart,
she sings –
I have created myself.