130907-07

I.    The caterpillar is beautiful in its own right:
vivid green, yellow, and black.
Is it comfortable in its own skin as it congregates
in the sunlight, consuming what is left of the garden’s dill?

Or is it aware of the change growing inside?
The caterpillar is just who it is meant to be . . .
for now.

But it is not who it is meant to stay.

II.  Its skin is no longer sufficient to support
the change waiting to emerge.
If it cannot shed this suffocating skin
will it shrivel up and die?
Will the life ebb out of its soul?

A fight begins:  the soul of a butterfly writhes
and struggles against its caterpillar skin.
Split it open.
Wrestle it off.
A chrysalis escapes,
Shedding its identity in an unrecognizable heap on the ground.
With a heave, the chrysalis settles into the quiet wait.

III. Deathlike stillness envelops the miracle of transformation.
Hiding it from prying eyes.
Quiet wraps itself around the life that will emerge in its time.

Wait.  Let that miracle be.
Give it space and time to grow.
To rebuild.  To emerge recreated.

You can’t hurry a butterfly into beautiful.

© J.L Sanborn 2013

130919-05

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