Act I: Hand on the Window

There once was a girl so afraid
That she never went outside and played.
She feared that a breeze
Would lift her with ease
So, hand on the window, she stayed.

For years she went on in this way
Keeping her heart locked away.
Freedom, belonging
She held these with longing
Yet stayed inside day after day.

Act II: The Call

The rays of the sun, warm and bright
Called to her heart with their light.
One hand on the knob
She choked back a sob
And stepped out into her delight.

Despite the still hush of the weather
She wished to hold on to a tether.
She worried the wind
Would soon spell her end
And lift her away like a feather.

In each pocket she placed a stone
So that she couldn’t be blown.
But still, when a gust
Threatened her trust
She panicked and threw herself prone.

A year she went on in this way
Venturing outside to play;
Returning, chagrined,
At the first hint of wind
Embracing her fears every day.

Act III: The Gale

But one day she walked a long trail
Questing for her Holy Grail
And she couldn’t get back
Before the attack
Of a hurricane-force sudden gale.

Even with stones in her pockets
The gale blasted at her like rockets.
Her eyes full of tears,
Her mind full of fears,
Her arms almost yanked from their sockets.

And then the strong wind did retreat.
The girl’s face as white as a sheet.
Her ever-feared nemesis
Had blown through these premises
And yet – she was still on her feet.

Emboldened, she leapt in the air
Dancing with nary a care.
The invincible girl
Stepped into a twirl
As her courage began to repair.

But quickly it started to crumble
As another slight breeze made her stumble.
Her fear not defeated,
Her courage depleted,
She trudged back inside, worn and humble.

For decades she went on this way
Empowerment mixed with dismay.
Afraid and subdued
Depending on mood,
Invincible on a good day.

Act IV: Flight

She realized the actual breeze
Had nothing to do with her ease.
A gale force withstood;
A slight breeze no good?
Absurd! But her mind disagrees.

Her mind manufactures her panic
And then switches over to manic.
It’s all biological
And though it’s illogical,
Still feels so real and titanic.

Two paths: One, light like a pillow.
Two, like a rolled armadillo.
Too soft or too tight.
But what if she might
Find a third way, to bend like the willow?

She set foot outside, her hair graying
Not falling, not fighting, just swaying
Along with the wind
To let herself bend
Then she notices how much she’s weighing.

Still in her pocket, two stones
Almost as old as her bones.
With a plonk and a thunk
She drops that old junk
And walks on to know the unknowns.

She finally feels the wind’s splendor
Since she’s not hard nor too tender.
She once thought a lapse
Would mean her collapse;
She’s now strong enough to surrender.

The edge of a cliff far up high
She lifts her face up to the sky
The wind blows right through her
For always it knew her.
She’s finally ready to fly.