Change

Caterpillars recycle . . .

Inch up twigs alone

To become new

Again

 

To sprout wings from no wings

Must be painful

With no loved ones

To give comfort

Or salve

 

Do they know

About becoming

When they inch

Into isolation?

No kinswoman

Has ever

Returned

To story the journey

 

The only ones who

Sankofa

Are butterflies

Who are already

Made

Are already

Beautiful

Are already

Whole

 

What caterpillar

Could trust

Such (un)reliable

Witnesses?

The ones that do. . .

Young ones,

Dumb ones,

Shunned ones. . .

They are (un)reliable too.

 

It must be painful. . .

In that cocoon

Alone

She must resist it

Cry

Beg God to make it stop

To ease the hurt of it

She must

Curse

Beat at herself

In the still, quiet, shell

That looks like peace

Before she tires

Lets it happen

Wills it so

 

And then the pain subsides

And she marvels

At the constriction of space

Becomes less tolerant of the darkness

Becomes less tentative in her attempts

To make herself free

 

The shell breaks

Or rather, she breaks it

And that too

Must be painful

And then the light breaks

Or rather, she embraces it

And emerges

(Re)made

New. . .

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

We Need Your Help!

Illustration by Cosmo Whyte

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 9 other followers

%d bloggers like this: