COCOONS

A small unsightly mass of gray,
Nestled so neatly
Like an infant
In the protection of the leaves…
I almost brushed it way,
Not realizing what it was.

An ugly little caterpillar lay asleep inside,
Caressed by delicate fibers,
Spun so carefully in purpose.

I watched it for a time –
It was still,
No motion,
No sound.
For all outward evidence,
It seemed not to possess life.

We have something in common,
The cocoon and I.
When I hurt I turn inside,
Disillusioned by my own
Incapacity to achieve.

You see no movement –
Hear no sound,
But there is work,
And there is change…going on within.

Come closer -
Listen….
I might not emerge from this chrysalis unscathed,
But I could just grow some wings and fly.

Vicki King 1975

Painting: Yellow Diasy #2 -by Justin