To Recover

To RecoverA tender featherIs 'Better',Of a swan or a blackbird -The soft tickle of fine fibresBrushing by my flesh,Yet beware, sharp prick of the point pierces deep -A smiling, smirking scream,Be careful,Be careful, the wind -A leaf glides on the membrane of water,Streaming tears on the cheek,But with little feet I plant myself,Rooted in stones -Stones of reality,HardAnd real,Stones of reality,Real -The journey to 'Better' -Strenuous, long -A winding path is pastures;The sky does twist,He blows me downAnd I must myself get up -Or a story, rough,Unbeknown of yet -Painful pride seeps through pages, pages;Pride 'I'll make it''I made it''I made it'And the quieting pain of ahead.

• Alice West