I am sleeping here
left to grow wings
to fly on my own
rather stay curled up
like a seed buried deep.
but my hope does not slumber
and so I rise.
Legs seem to tremble.
unsteady
fumbling
standing at the starting gate
every day
the same race.
and I ache to run
because hope does not slumber.
Now I am floating here
wings tremble
unsteady
and bumbling
progress measured in ounces.
Have to celebrate
the light with the darkness
finding strength in my weakness,
A small bird
in a world full of tigers.
-amy jones
INTO THIS DEEP 