I am not pristine. I am weathered.
My flesh bears the mark of all my indulgences and injuries.
Though it was I who stumbled, my body fell.
I love my carriage now.
It has borne me along all these years.
I know it, recognize it as mine, am grateful for its service.
A home for my soul, twisted no longer.
Came through the dark night, my starling, to shine.