I've been worried lately.
I cry inside, and my smile
is just above the surface of
my lips.
Often I'm afraid someone
may see that it isn't always
the genuine smile I claim it
to be.
I don't see me; accomplished,
and
I don't see failure either.
I see someone who is
stuck-
With seemingly no way to
scramble out.
To wriggle free, and spread
her wings....
As if emerging from inside of
a coccoon.
A butterfly, transformed
from that of a lowly caterpillar.
Yet, still afraid to fly, but longing
to soak up the wind blowing upon
her fragile newborn wings.
I wish sometimes I were a hobo.
Where my only worry would be
when I could hop the next train;
destination unknown.
No distractions.
No worries.
Just me and the train.
Nothing but the roar of the
wheels humming against the track.
Vibrations coming through the steel
of the rail car, into the pit of my being.
My bones rumbling.
My core trembling.
My soul shaken.
My heart, mending.
My wings finally,
fluttering.
When that train stops:
(I will)
Fly away free.
© 2007 Julia A. Hill
