Cocoon-{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.
One Comment
Nancy Ruegg
Cocooning certainly describes the last 15 months of isolation. And though colors may not have shocked us as we emerged, the joy of smiles, touch, and raised our wings to fly free into the world again certainly shocked the senses. Lovely artistry with words–as always, Jody!