Metamorphosis.
Do you really know
how it works?
First,
if it’s lucky, the caterpillar spins itself stuck in silk.
If it’s not, when it come time to grow
it’s trapped inside its own skin.
And then.
It doesn’t blossom into antenna and wings,
doesn’t slowly, softly, shift,
from one thing to another.
Then it l i q u i f i e s.
An enzyme called caspase
tears through tissue,
breaks old and familiar bonds,
until everything that it is,
isn’t.
And from here,
its cells must betray it again,
dragging themselves atom by atom,
(furtively, painfully)
into the shape of a stranger.
Please note
that during this time,
a butterfly is extremely vulnerable
to outside influences.
It has never been more unsure,
and could ooze right out and die.
And if it finally finishes forming,
(it never will)
it must find the strength to break free,
and stand shaking beneath the shattered sky.
It can’t just fly.
It needs time to process
what it has involuntarily become.
Maybe it never wanted this,
to be something more.
Something pretty.
(And isn’t it so lucky if it is)
Maybe it just wants to be
what it was.
(Is)