Origami

she folds paper feathers
nimble fingers bending and pressing
until there sits in her hand the shape
of a little crane
crane 23, crane 109, crane 200
every bird strung neatly from her ceiling,
a heaven with wings for stars
she's not crazy
just
fragile.
like paper, her heart seems to be
folded in every direction, by hands too many
the crane is her strength,
her support
her only sense of control
paper, it dries so easily
so it is impossible to see
the tears that fell into each feather as she,
with trembling hands tried for her always constant victory

oh, beautiful origami girl

stop those hands for once,
and let Him hold them

won't you trade your paper wings for the real thing?