I, Caterpillar or Refusing the Cocoon

The cocoon is a small restricted place
That hangs from a perilous thread,
It looks like a white sarcophagus
And appears to contain the dead.

I, caterpillar, I refuse the cocoon.
Why should I submit?
To trust a thin and silken yarn,
And reduce my self to an “it”?

I’ve heard the tales of fantasists
Who dream by the light of the moon
Of bright-winged transformations;
‘Gifts and abilities “Coming Soon!”’

I laugh
I caterpillar, clearly see
Right through the credulous mind.
I have a grasp of the central theme;
I refuse the ties that bind.

I choose my freedom in my way
No darkling chamber mine.
I see the light on my spots and spikes
And I think they’re rather fine.

I glance with pity
Now and then
At those who close themselves in
And make their lives so limited.
What is it they seek as they spin?

I won’t hang around to watch them die
And see their forms decay.
I’ve leaves to eat on other trees.
No death for me today!

He fled from the sound of the krackening.
From the opening of the tomb.
He had turned away
When miraculous wings
Emerged from the dark cocoon.

But as he sat on his laden branch
Where he had grown quite fat,
A shimmering creature dazzled in flight.
“My word, he gasped,
Who’s that?”




Sarah de Nordwall April 2009