Tender the chrysalis
I wonder at its cracking
A rebirth into holiness
Where hope is not lacking.
So it is in discovering
Kindred souls importing
A new quickening in me.
Eyes blink a brief moment.
Moist wings uncurl in flight.
And I wonder and I lament
New wings lost from my sight.
So it is in the losing
Of love- an imparting
Of the sting of dying, in me.
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These poems posted this month so far are all older ones...mostly from my very early 20's...they show a less mature, more innocent individual... often wracked with good old protestant guilt. Feel free to skip any of these if you are looking through. Most of the newer stuff is much more interesting. I thought I'd post them all here just to keep the collection more or less complete. I have more to add that were never typed up...and I may or may not do so in the future.
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