I. Cocoon
We struggle in the dark places.
Bones break.
Wings form underneath the skin,
rip through the back.
We transform in the warmth
of a folded leaf -
always in agony,
always quiet.
II. Transition
A tiny light grows.
The dark gives way to the sun
and the wings unfold -
still weak,
still unsure.
Then we move in a new way.
Once we crawled on our bellies,
now we fly above the flowers.
III. Weathered
Our wings are strong for a long time,
but the days are stronger.
We live and let go
and go back to that place of quiet darkness,
only this time,
not in agony.
The wings fold in -
a cocoon of color,
and that is where we say
goodbye.
5 comments:
I'm appreciate your writing skill.Please keep on working hard.^^
Nice poem.:)
you haven't posted in a very long time
is everything ok with you???
please i want to hear from you again
Oh wow! It HAS been a long time. Time flies. I'll post again soon :)
this is wonderfully written. it shows the transformation of life to death quite well. have a great day.
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