Roast Myself

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.

 

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems, Uncategorized

Say something about this...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s