I am stagnant water, the tadpoles, the fish feeding on mosquito larvae.
I am larvae, an earlier version of what I hope I can be. I am afraid of change. I must transform, must dry my wings and fly.
I know no chrysalis, no pupa, my body remains firm. It does not understand change.
I hate my body, how thick, how it lacks wings. I am tree trunk, tell the woodpeckers I am unmovable. I drop no nuts, no seeds. Below the soil, my roots have withered.
I am a cicada. Give me seventeen years, I will shed my exoskeleton. I will become verdant, sing and soar.