delicate folds into endless creases, the wrinkles in mother's hands. asking for more, taking & creating new faces when you think the last of you is gone.
& though the world may tuck away your flaws & pleat you into origami stars, take to the earth, uproot the trees.
stand tall as your last in- carnation, become the called bluff & bloom in the space between sky & ground.
before you hit the earth, become the bird that you are & perch on opportunity.