Chrysalis: A Free-Verse Poem for Lent

I uncurl and fall still and sleep

in the twilight

until night comes . . .

 –

The wind

Lashes.

I am a threadbare rainbow,

A brittle ship in a hurricane,

Clinging to this twig

That is my harbor.

Alone.

Helpless until the wind falls still.

I hold on . . . and on . . .

 –

The wind

Hushes.

I am a breathless finger of water,

Pearled,

Dangling from this twig

That is my gibbet.

I am strangling.

Alone.

Helpless, estranged from freedom.

Dying for an explosion of wings.

I struggle . . . and try . . . to fly.

 –

The wind

Knifes,

Slitting my skin

Into spiraling snowflake fragments

That flutter

To the night grass below and

Die.

I am blind,

Naked,

Agonized in every pore,

Grasping, gasping,

Clotheless,

Hanging from this coarse twig.

– 

The wind–

Vaults

Catapults

Rips

Tears

Flings

Me

Away.

– 

Instants and

Eternities.

I see colossal galaxies and

Salt-grain atoms of air.

I am dying.

Dying to hold on.

Strangling for air.

Dying for an explosion of wings.

Dying to fly.

Dying . . .

Dead.

 –

The wind–

Is no longer there.

All is silence.

But what is catching me up?

Morning light

And an explosion of wings.

Magenta

Amethyst

Cerulean

I wash heaven in a thousand watercolors,

Painting morning.

 –

I see the promises

In the night agony.

I live, redeemed, renewed

By the fall of death

By the endurance of pain.

Clinging to air.

Breathing freedom.

Living to fly . . .

Living to fly.

By Mary Faustina

 

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