Nestled in a worn cocoon,
Hidden from the light.
I work all day,
To find a way,
To make it through the night.
A silk vacuum, maternal womb,
Woven to conceal.
My sole being,
Beyond seeing,
The emotions that I feel.
I'm constricted, arms restricted,
Pinned tight at my side.
I try to squirm,
Like a worm,
There's no place to hide.
Suddenly reality,
Disturbs my private hell.
I'm aware
of a tare,
In my outer shell.
I deliberate, then agitate,
Wiggle to get free.
Semi-conscious,
My response is,
To fight for liberty.
I hesitate to escape,
Force my way on through,
Scenes flash by,
Before my eyes,
Of feelings I once knew.
Then the shackles that once bound me,
Are finally loose then shed.
I tentatively,
Stretch to see,
Shake cobwebs from my head.
I peel away the formed decay,
That was my resting home.
To my surprise,
I realize,
I am not alone.
For there around me, souls surround me,
Millions of cocoons.
I just stare,
Now aware,
Of all God's woven tombs.
I stretch my arms, to my alarm,
They're now two different things.
It's funny when,
One life ends,
God honors it with wings.
Copyright © April 2010
Kevin Mooney
kmm001
041810
No comments:
Post a Comment