I've crushed young saplings, silken wings,
and all things new and tender
a hundred different ways each day.
I've built fortresses separating Them
from Us, in all degrees of subtlety.
Words have found their way to the tongue
only because they'd been there before.
I've looked at myself in mirrors
just to see what I wanted to be.
Spoken to be heard, been silent in fear,
and loved to be loved in return.
I've crushed everything sacred and lovely
every hour, every day, and yet
this moment unfurls like a bud
opening to the world the first time --
delicate as the skeleton of a leaf,
holding no trace of what has been.