Grandmoth Knows the Way
She lies exhausted,
her wings half spread,
her past strewn widely
behind her.
Grandmother, the children pick you up,
hold you in their hands
to see how you would fly again.
You yearn for the white light
where the barely-heard beloved voices are;
the danger of life is becoming a threat.
Your wings flicker,
the light in your eyes is growing,
there is a great white light in the night.
fly now.
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