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Once, when I was a shiny-haired girl child,

I believed in Santa Claus, fairy tales and Jesus Christ.

I grew.

Listened.
A person needs to have a goal,

It seems,

A purpose,

Destiny.

The enormous weight of my choices

Sits in the corner

Deafening silence

Waits

Stares.

I drew a map

Plotted

Planned.

I revise, rewrite.

As I cut my swath, toward the hazy end of the path,

My place in this puzzle,

I find this unexpected grace:

To sing songs to

And gather back the shiny hair of a girl child,

So she will see her world and be

Unafraid

Inspired

Ready.