On Broken Wings

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help Amalia does not quite know what to say. How can she explain to Jigano that the thing he feels must be wrong, that Safrin is not ice but the brightest fire, white and blazing and radiance and love? Yet how can she tell her goddess - even mentally - that she has treated someone wrongly who only wanted to do good, that her perceived rejection has shattered the raven whose heart is never in the wrong place? Sighing, the girl says nothing at all, simply lets him speak. She will be a baseboard for his anguish, a bastion for his pain. Long fingers continue to run across his fur; Jyoti sings the softest song, a soothing hymn for their devastated friend. She doesn't have an answer, a solution for his pain. She wishes she could take the burden on her shoulders, wield it and save him from the tragedy of life. "I don't know either," the girl admits, wishing there were something better to give him. "I've never known what to do. How to help. If I'm enough." It's her deepest secret, her darkest fear: that she will forever be inadequate, never measure up to the world. "But I keep trying to be better. To do the best I can. It's all we can do, I think." a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine