Chrysalis
A poem
There were days when I wanted
none of this:
no molten gold over the horizon,
no birdsong in the backyard,
no children giggling on the trampoline.
I wanted to shut my eyes against the brightness
of being, to protect myself from the
sun’s power. I curled into myself,
becoming an impenetrable chrysalis--
my outer layer tissue-paper-thin but strong.
I perished the thought
of leaving the shelter I had crafted. It was too much
to be in the world.
But though I fought to believe that I was safer
and more sheltered in the dark, I started to notice
how the raindrops’ melody on a metal swing
broke through my carefully constructed cocoon,
how the wind carried with it children’s voices
singing made-up songs, or how the most vibrant parts
of the sun still managed to penetrate my casing.
I shut my eyes tight, but instead of darkness,
I saw the imprint of tulips against an azure sky
stamped on the corners of my mind.
Maybe--just maybe--I could stand the glow.
Maybe--just maybe--I could glow, too.
Across my years I have come to a deeper understanding of all that light offers. It was first about what the light of a new day did for me physically when it dawned toward the end of a midnight shift in hospitals - I wrote a devotional message once, "Waitin' on the Morning Light." And there came so many more instances of light's power. This poem takes its power beyond those instances. Thank you, Erin.
I love the imagery in this post. Light penetrating through the tough chrysalis. And finding the ability to glow again. I love how nature reflects the way we can feel sometimes better than we could ever say in any other words.