She certainly had roots before; tangled knots and aching feet, the wind only knocked her knees together instead of sweeping her off her feet- but she wanted to fly. She feels the air between her fingertips, she feels clouds in her heart, and she feels stars in her soul. She is sky, but what was she before?

Was she the dirt underneath her fingernails? Was she the knots in her hair? Was she the dogeared pages on her nightstand?

she is the holes where limbs used to be, find her hands and remind her what it means to be---