Sleep tight, you’re a smart young girl, you’re strong, and I know you’ll be all right, just be yourself, mom says to me. 

I close my eyes, anxiously dream of tomorrows journey, and try to see what will be. 

I start walking down my new path to school, and see a special tree. And the tree says to me, would you like to be me? Of course, I would; it’s better than being me. So let’s trade places says the tree, of course, says me. 

So now I’m so well grounded and know who is me. I’m a tree. I have roots and green leaves and surrounded by so many more of me. I’m tall and strong and thick, and so still, that is…when the wind leaves me be. 

But when the rain wets my branches or the chill of winter makes me brittle, and my limbs shiver and shake this new me is so hard to take, I don’t want to be me.

When the spring comes and my limbs grow and sprout, and I start remembering seasons past, I start thinking; do I still want to be me? 

As I reach for the sun, it says to me, would you rather be me. Of course, I said I don’t want to be a tree. I want to see the forests and bears, the birds, and those who travel the seas. 

Now I’m the sun. So I rise in the morning and set in the afternoon, I give light to darkness and warmth to the cold. Ah, this is me but do I want to do this till I’m very old. It’s so hot up here and cold at night and all though I see the seas and so many trees, is this really what I want to be. 

Is up and down all there is for me? 

My rays reach out and see the jungle full of lush vegetation and wild things that prowl the paths they command. Is this for me? Of course, says the mighty tiger that says he would rather be me. 

So I earn my stripes, I run, I hunt and fight for my space. I put fear in all who are near, and then run, catch my prey, rest at night and start all over again, the very next day, and the very next day.

A loud noise rings out is that sound meant for me. Should I run, should I hide, is someone after me. I run through the paths that once were mine, and fear runs through me for the very first time. I suddenly stop and see a bird so much afraid of me. I say to the bird, would you rather be me.

Of course said the bird I want your stripes, of course, said the tiger I want your flight. So now I’m free to fly where I want and really be me. Now I’ll find my flock and soar and sway and swoon and dive and be free.

Now its time to look through the forest and find a tree that’s best to nest my own new family and me.

The wind, rain, and the snow and cold says oh no, my friend, this may all come to an end. Now I lose one of my own to nature’s fury. Luckily for me, the tree intervenes, and its leaves and branches ease its descent.

Now the sun comes up, and the stillness in the forest makes a vacuous sound. There is a crack in the shell, and a little beak sticks out and says, help me be free; help me be me.

The family swoops down and surrounds the shell and says, don’t fear; you’ll soon fly and be what you will learn to be. 

But who will I be said the newborn? Can I be that girl walking to school? 

That’s me says the mother….

Ask her, she says. 

The little girl realizes they are all looking at her. She then looks at the sky, looks at the trees, looks at the forest, and looks down, and says to this newborn inquisitor; you should be what you want to be. 

As for me…I just want to be me!