Apr 19, 2017
I’m breaking,
wilting, painfully losing skin.
I wonder if this process will complete like the healing of bones,
never quite the same, never quite so strong,
or if I'll emerge from this stronger than ever,
a molted being with thicker skin,
a previously weather-wilted daffodil,
reaching for the sky the spring following her demise,
the first spritz of life parallel the still-present frost,
conquering and accepting life's cycles as they come.
what will it be?
who decides?
When do I get to know
what I will be come spring?
Come, spring.
