this is what you do
And I know, the movements are so awkward, the pace halting, the results
a little dubious. The landscape is full of better-thans, shining examples fit for
book jackets and talk show features and the flash of a camera's Cyclops
eye. If you wanted, you could lose yourself in that Emerald City, get dizzy from the glitter,
feel your fault lines multiply until your body cracks from the weight of all your brokenness.
But this is what you do, and the shape you carve marks a necessary path against a sky
so open, it can hold it all. See how that blue suspends you no more or less
than the champion showing off her spoils. Feel the air clap its hands to the dance you pry
out of your troublesome limbs, mistaking your ungainliness for grace.
Believe it. There is room enough for everyone. Come take your place.