First Steps

Quaking and wavering,

I left the nest a hatchling.

Like a newborn turtle, I searched;

only father was there to see me

with sunken eyes and a weighted heart,

and I waddled away from him

into the darkness,

into the tunnel

where I wasn’t sure to look

for the light at the end: that sunset

spreading across the sky

with muddled wings of clouds,

brushstrokes of pink, orange and yellow,

or the light of an oncoming train:

that metallic screech of wheels against track,

that howling horn,

and the blazing white light

that foretells the pain.