I am a siren still
And I sing the only song I know
Tenuously suspended
in a liminal space
Part woman, part bird
Flighty, I abhor a cage
And my sharp eye
and flitting bird-heart
Fear its confinement
But perhaps I have shed
A few of these feathers
and become more wholly
a person, not a fable
I sing and hope
for one who knows the perils
and dares anyway
to approach my jagged coastline
To take my hand, taloned as it is
and bear my flaws
Lead me not to a cage,
but to a horizon
And hear me, truly
hear me
Because I sing the only song I know:
My own.