Cocoon

He should see this me
this one he proclaimed
had no one,
envisioned me fleeing
back
to the arms of my makers.
This is a reawakening
all the caring
I get from flocks
of friends
lined up to offer,
twilight flights,
drinks of sweet nectar,
kisses from feather soft wings.

This me is a butterfly
emerging.
From a cocoon of it’s choosing;

She thought
it fit
a perfect color
the perfect size,
one
mid winter day holiday
not yet Belantine,
the cocoon broke
cracking from top to bottom
disintegrating
unsolvable,
and I was released.

It took awhile for the wings to unfold
each
soft dust part
stretching
testing, the wind
seemed so strong…
flying is a scary thing.

Soon the storm will settle
and gliding will be a pleasure.


I now notice colors
that weren’t there before
colors of my lifescape,
and a scar down the middle of my
capsule body.

I do revisit the place of my lost cocoon
see the shreds of it still on the moss below,
where it once hung
so elegantly
the perfect size and shape,
once.


I will remember it that way
and try not to think
about the dust
on a forest floor,
That was once my home.
My life.
My love…

And just fly high
away, strong and alone
into the warm
healing sun

© Jennifer Sky Band. Do not reprint without permission.