chrysalis
I am always aware of the chrysalis molting on my spine.
Imagine a fish that’s lived its whole life in a bowl.
One day, you take it to the sea. It swims through coral in wonder, moving dizzily with the tides. It dances under scattering light and gazes at silver schools darting like stars. With eyes fixated on marmoris, it bids goodbye to the saffron dawn. Before leaving, and returning to its oviform home.
I wanted to be crimson and shimmer on sparkling waves of light. Free-flowing hair. A breathtaking sight. My skin, translucent silk, humming with veins of unmade wings. Dazzling. Uncontained. Yet I am violently molting.
The shell scrapes against my skin, threatening to break with little movements. Splintered fragments. The dust fills my nose. In confinement, I peel myself raw but the form underneath is never whole.
Wanderlust longings tune to monotonous woes. Tumultuous storms and stillness that swallows sounds whole. Gentle flutters stretch the membrane until it’s close to breaking. Kicking. And emerging, nascent dreams stirring lightly.
Mindblowing. I love the composition.
You’re back!! ❤️
Beautifully written!