Do they ever remember back, I wonder,
the cocoon, the struggle, how long they waited in the wings
for the final flutter
that sprung them free?
And now, in the dying light of day, do they ever miss the new
of their bright, torn wings?
Or is it even sweeter now
with their jagged wisdom,
the freedom hard won.
I let my eyes join their gentle dance,
dipping delicious across each petal,
and tune my heartstrings quiet
so maybe can I hear their song.
It seems simple what their wings whisper,
how this journey is messy
and thick with mystery
and even though it’s all so blotchy with pain,
nothing goes wasted,
nothing, they sing.
(that has got to be one of the bravest songs I’ve ever heard)
Maybe it goes something like this:
“The people who look the most beautiful are the same as us.
The only difference is they’re telling themselves they look good
and they’re letting themselves shine through.
The people who say the most profound, intelligent, or witty things
are the same as us. They’re letting go, being who they are.
The people who appear the most confident and relaxed are no different from us.
They’ve pushed themselves through fearful situations and told themselves
they could make it.
The people who are successful are the same as us.
They’ve gone ahead and developed their gifts and talents
and set goals for themselves.
We’re all working with approximately the same material – humanity.
It’s how we feel about ourselves that makes the difference.
It’s what we tell ourselves that makes the difference.”