Emerging from its self-spun grave, a Lazarus called forth.
It feels the breeze of warming air; adventure speaks, “Go north!”
As wet wings dry their crinkled folds, preparing for first flight,
And life moves in its tiny cells, it orients towards light,
Antennas dial magnetic fields; takes bearings from the sun,
It hears the song to launch and fly. A new life has begun!
It’s back pack from pre-cocoon days; with tattered, lumpy shape
Was hauled ‘oer rocks, twigs, raindrop lakes: a strenuous landscape.
Filled with new shoes and plant id, for caterpillar stage
But now must be left – – cast aside; for butterfly to raise.
It won’t fit over new found wings; the bulk will weigh it down.
A Butterfly must sail and soar – not meant to be earthbound!
No backward glance, it springs aloft; the size of apple leaf
And travels on the breath of God, its numbered days are brief.
I too am running out of time, to leave my former space.
Now metamorphosis complete, I seek a sacred place.
My backpack full of anger, tears, regrets from former days.
I leave behind this smoldering bag; I have new trails to blaze!
I’ll head to where I’ve never been, I too, now spring aloft.
So much to do and see and write, adventure yells: “BLAST OFF!”