My Poems

Cocoon-Covidtide {a #poem}

I slip on this chosen shelter, hide

within silken walls and wonder—

How long will these layers hold?

Fragile pearlescence surrounds me-

who’s to say? My shattered self

is still, waiting.

Gauzy quiet and singular,

barren days envelop

me by the hour. I take pains

with my words, listen more,

defy the urgency of unnecessary

things. Spinning a private

insulation preserves me

heart and mind, a soundless

cushion while my soul heals.


No one can chart a butterfly’s

birth. Not really. Skin is shed, the

surprise of color shocks as wings

unfurl, breathing life into deep-

down cells.

Chrysalis—gold. All that remains

when death is past and days

have vanished. New life comes,

unfurls its way to the neverseen.

Eclosion complete, I raise my

wings and fly.


This poem is an edited version of a previous post, written after my daughter and I experienced the events of September 11th, 2001. You can read my original thoughts about cocooning HERE.


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