She has just arrived,
pushed out by the labor of the world,
dripping wet with newness.
Fresh.
Alive.
Innocent and beautiful.
She smiles and claps playfully at butterflies,
laughing as they flutter just beyond her reach,
Promising that if she would just but believe,
her own wings will unfold
in music and splendor,
She laughs with delight,
content to stay down on the earth for a sweet time of discovery.
She knows that when the time comes,
she will let her wings spread in glorious harmony with the world,
and the magic that is life will fall like silver stars wherever she flies.
Her mother,
the earth,
sighs in relief that her complicated pregnancy is over;
she could not bear to know the pain her unborn child was in
and have no ability to help
or heal the child who pushed her way
through the darkness of her womb.

The other children of the world cannot understand this 5'8"
newborn,
still holding the glorious shape of her body fat,
the girl whose eyes know such pain yet exhibit such hope.
The scars of her difficult birth are not hidden,
but stay as a testimony of her desire to live;
and the sight of outstretched wings
on the girl who has not even discovered how to use them
pushes the others to explore their own backs,
in search of the wings that, as babies, they once flew with.

She is confused,
part of her wanting to keep her secrets to herself,
becoming a woman of mystery and intrigue;
another part is eager to share her journey,
in hope of kindred spirits who have explored the same darkness
and have arrived,
as she is arriving,
triumphant,
singing and fluttering their wings.

The others look at her naive, unpainted face and laugh,
not the laugh of delight,
but the laugh of disdain,
taunting her tiny wings
and picking at her scars,
all too aware of their own wings that wilt
with every harsh word,
and of the scars that lie hidden beneath their clothing.

She is painfully aware,
wishing she could be unaware,
as she was before,
forever empty and comfortable with that emptiness.
The wings on her back flutter in anticipation,
opening and closing with eagerness,
wanting desperately to fly,
yet not quite knowing how.

God kisses her nose,
blessing her,
reminding her that She is watching over her,
that He is the one that gave her those wings,
and she rejoices in the knowledge
that God does not make faulty wings.

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