There's a room in my house
where an eagle flies
I hear its wings beating against the walls.
It has the smell of blood on its breath,
that seeps under the doorway.
I go months, even years,
trying not to think about that room.
But the eagle never forgets:
It has set me in its perfect vision.
It knows one day we will meet.
And whether I am ready or not,
it will be ready;
it will be there waiting to take me