Chrysalis: A Free-Verse Poem for Lent

Chrysalis: A Free-Verse Poem for Lent

I uncurl and fall still and sleep
in the twilight
until night comes . . .

The wind
Lashes.
I am a threadbare rainbow,
A brittle ship in a hurricane,

Clinging to this twig
That is my harbor.
Alone.
Helpless until the wind falls still.
I hold on . . . and on . . .

The wind
Hushes.
I am a breathless finger of water,
Pearled,
Dangling from this twig
That is my gibbet.
I am strangling.
Alone.
Helpless, estranged from freedom.
Dying for an explosion of wings.
I struggle . . . and try . . . to fly.

The wind
Knifes,
Slitting my skin
Into spiraling snowflake fragments
That flutter
To the night grass below and
Die.
I am blind,
Naked,
Agonized in every pore,
Grasping, gasping,
Clotheless,
Hanging from this coarse twig.

The wind –
Vaults
Catapults
Rips
Tears
Flings
Me
Away.

Instants and
Eternities.
I see colossal galaxies and
Salt-grain atoms of air.
I am dying.
Dying to hold on.
Strangling for air.
Dying for an explosion of wings.
Dying to fly.
Dying . . .
Dead.

The wind –
Is no longer there.
All is silence.
But what is catching me up?
Morning light
And an explosion of wings.
Magenta
Amethyst
Cerulean
I wash heaven in a thousand watercolors,
Painting morning.

I see the promises
In the night agony.
I live, redeemed, renewed
By the fall of death
By the endurance of pain.
Clinging to air.
Breathing freedom.
Living to fly . . .
Living to fly.

Original Poetry