The Fighter

April 24, 2012
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Sitting inside the fuselage,
Just when the sun reaches its fingers above the horizon,
She looks ahead to the coming fight

Her windshield is cracked, even in her youthful state
The luggage bears down on her and burdens her so,
The fractures in her canopy bear malice to her eyes
I encourage her and hope for a good flight

Unable to control the yoke, and,
To change the irrational velocity and its chaos
She steps back and ponders her trajectory

I reminisce how far down the caterpillar
Was, it started when the rain began
It curled into a ball and sunk into
The ground for feet to traipse all over

And just when it thought its life was over,
It became a butterfly and fly, fly it did
It flew to new heights, soaring above
What a caterpillar could only imagine

And as it beat its wings it remembered
The failed attempts at flight when it first transformed
And when it saw where
It was now it realized that it really could
Make it to the sun

She found her confidence and
Continued on with the knowledge that
What doesn’t kill you, only makes
You stronger, in that you simply
Cannot give up the fight

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