Thursday, January 25, 2007

My Cocoon

I have spun a cocoon around myself,
Not so much to protect me from the world,
As to bind me and confine me
With my pain.

It looks a lot like me, this cocoon. But:
In those eyes there is no light;
In those gestures, no power;
In that face, no motion.

My cocoon goes to the gym.
My cocoon goes to work.
My cocoon goes to the store, and
My cocoon goes home.

My cocoon does not go to parties.
My cocoon does not go to bars.
My cocoon does not go to dinner with friends.
My cocoon sits home alone.

And where am I? Inside,
Tightly curled around the jagged shards
Of my broken heart. Burned by the fire
That once warmed that fragile vessel,
That once drove my every step,
That once powered my spirit to soar.

Will that fire transform me?
Will that fire consume me?
Will I emerge, a new being,
Ready to fly?
Or will I die?

My cocoon looks just like me, but
In those eyes there is no light;
| (Because I sent the light away,
In those gestures, no power;
| And focused all my power on the one,
In that face, no motion.
| The only one who made me move.)