Those days of punishment
and confinement
over now,
I died a thousand times,
and still am here,
heart filled with gratitude,
heart filled with song,
clearing spaces,
new space,
new heart,
new me.

In that time of dying,
lessons learned,
tools given,
tools of healing
and forgiveness,
led me through
the labyrinth,

And out of the primordial goo,
these wings, these wings,
they grew, they grew.

Some cannot recognize me now,
so used to my caterpillar days,
so used to my wounded warrior ways,
that these wings, these wings,
they cannot see these wings.

Perhaps their rainbow iridescent hues
are too brilliant
to see through
caterpillar eyes.

© Kamea Moonmaiden

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