First bated breath:
powder blue to flushed pink
fragile, screaming, dependent, weak
infantile form, vulnerable, soft and pale
downy fuzz, eyes blurry, seeking milk

Cells divide, new tougher skin grows
heart pounds with skeptical hope
in time learning to walk, run, trip
hardier human form takes shape

Thrown callously into earthly wake
millions of eons of history before her
being hardened, jaded with pain
she smiles past precarious pasts

Opens her molting heart fast
shedding scars each time it cracks
it only heals stronger, adapts

Metamorphosis perhaps…

That predictable constant — change
the only thing that stays the same
in time she has shed herself, become
a whole new her, never succumbed

Entirely new heart, new eyes
new love, new breath, new skies
to view upon the broken world
with hope that truth optimizes

Her constant redesign, her rebirth…

Until one day…wings sprout forth
from her back, set her to lofty flight
above the looming black, into the light
her white feathers illuminating her path

Transformation complete

…she soars.

Emily Clapper from PoetGirlEm 


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