Why Wouldn't She?

And, why wouldn’t she be safe? Who determines this? The parents holding the baby or the grown baby looking at her origins? Why couldn’t the baby not grow up? Taking responsibility for her mind, heart, and soul? What kept her partially paralyzed? What stopped her from breathing—as she performed onstage, playing the beautiful tones on her ancient instrument? What kept her so deeply uncomfortable, so ashamed of her ability to conjure magic? Surely not others, maybe just a few. But clearly it was herself and her own self-consciousness. Little-Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes firmly holding up the boundaries of her possibilities! Like her father, so scared of what other humans would think. Never growing beyond the teenaged self-control, of “Oh—it is so embarrassing!” to the sickening point of self extinction—or, put more gently, of simply hiding from the rising sun.