Walking on the street, she saw shadows beneath. Looking in disbelief, she found them frightening. Their laughter was cold, the words they unfold— meant to scold.

Their eyes are off. Minds are blocked. They don't understand what they have seen. They can't undo what they did. Shouldn't they know it's mean?

She's wicked. She's vulnerable. Booing at her, they said, "You're twisted. You're strange. You don't belong."

Those are only ten words. It shouldn't hurt, but it does. Turned out, words hurt the most.

She was scared. She was shrunken. But she knew what must have been done. Now that she knows, she must face her shadows.

She ran. She fell. But she found her glory. It was always the gift of radiance, and she knew it. She stepped back as she saw the dark clouds. But this time, it wasn't fear. It was a quiet, unyielding resolve.

Welcoming darkness, she smiled. Who would have known she could light up the whole sky? She sighed as she saw all her shadows fade. She said, "It was an intricate journey -- a self-made crusade."