Inside my egg, I would learn the fragility of protective spaces.

As a hatchling, I walked on egg shells.  

Two predators invaded my sacred space. One known and the other a beast in the shadows. I hadn't yet learned that language would be my salvation. In these formidable years, I fled. And so it would become a pattern that flight provided the means for my survival. Each migratory pattern repeated in cycles. 

Shortly after leaving the nest, I flew as an eagle in the United States military. I sharpened my talons on the pages of books. Each page provided materiality for my own nest. And my talons harnessed the power of the moonlight to generate stories. 

I tried many times to pluck myself from existence. I wanted end my suffering.  

I learned late in life to fight.