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| photo by sarah allegra via flickr |
I met a cocoon.
There. Outside.
Hidden between the flowers. On the underside of a wet- heavy
cluster of leaves. It trembles. It aches to shed its layers, to free its newly
imagined wings, to release the butterfly within.
But … it waits.
Weather-resistant, hidden from sight, wrapped in layers of
protection, Cocoon insists on sheltering its precious cargo, its treasured, long-awaited
dreams.
I met a cocoon.
Here. Inside.
Hidden beneath my heart. On the other side of have-to’s. It
trembles. It aches to shed its layers, to free its newly imagined wings, to
release the butterfly within.
What are these layers that keep my wings tucked away, that
keep me safe and nurse my fears?
Why do I forget?
To live my long-awaited dreams.
To live my long-awaited dreams.
I met a cocoon.
There. Within.
Buried behind your eyes. Caught unawares. It trembles. It aches to shed its layers, to free its newly imagined wings, to release the butterfly within.
Buried behind your eyes. Caught unawares. It trembles. It aches to shed its layers, to free its newly imagined wings, to release the butterfly within.
People resistant, hidden from sight, wrapped in layers of
protection, your cocoon insists on sheltering your precious cargo, your treasured, long-awaited dreams.
But WAIT!
When did you forget?
How to swallow your fear.
When did you forget?
How to fly.
For it is who you are
It is who we all are
Winged dreams
Sheltered by our protective cocoons
Aching to remember
How to swallow fear
How to swallow fear
And fly
* * *
My Wish for You?
To remember.
To stretch those wings
Through fear
Into flight.
4 comments:
Oh Brynne, you are a truly gifted writer! Thank you again for such a beautiful post!
Yesterday an amiga invited me to try her standup paddle board. My earlier memories of attempting to surf, followed by attempts at windsurfing, told me to sit on shore with a glass of wine and watch others. Fear? Yes, some. But something told me to risk a splash in the cold lake water. I can't say what - or who. But I got a few words of instruction, went out and promptly fell off the board when I tried to stand. The next attempt I stood easily and for the balance of the time I glided smoothly. And didn't care if I fell. I relearned the lesson about the need sometimes fall.
Thank you.
dear, beautiful Katherine...thank you for your kind, heartfelt presence here. It means so very much to me.
You trusted your wings to bring you greater gifts than your cocoon:) And you inspired me...and probably others...to do the same by sharing. Thank you, beautiful Michael. My heart is happier because of you:)
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