Once I was a chrysalis,
hanging from a tree.
My outer structure, rigid;
a shell of leafy green.
An environment for my own protection,
camouflaged almost entirely.
Inside I was cozy;
provisionary safety.
Then a hairline fracture formed,
a split down the emerald wall,
and suddenly this haven
became suffocatingly too small.
The internal pressure rose;
If I did not fly, I’d fall.
I braced myself for weather,
and surrendered to the call.
I pressed against the calcified seams
and broke out from the stone,
trading the comfort of the still
for wings I’d never known.
I took to flight on a patient wind,
and claimed the skies my home.
The horizon lost its limits—
A kingdom of my own.
No longer bound by branches,
Nor held by translucent threads,
I’ve learned to hide within the light,
And make the world my friend.
—
Chris Gallegos is a poet who loves writing about life experiences and nature. Prior published work includes My Canvas, An Art Show at Poetry For Mental Health and “Under Crystalline Scopes” at Nature Of Our Times.
