Under two blankets, two cats
I read a poem I needed today
That read, “life promised to be a moving thing”
I think about what it means to change
Stretching and blooming
Beautiful stories about caterpillars growing wings
Until it’s you—you don’t know who you are
“Chrysalis”, a word given to you After, in the light
In the dark, there’s never a word for it
The metaphor breaks down
Our lives are not butterflies
They are phoenixes
And each time we’re burning
We forget that there’s anything
To life but ash
Some days I feel like my
Bones are too small for my skin
I was once told:
“Nothing is too big for you”
Some days I believe it
And grow resolve
Some days I know
That I don’t want to give myself away
To every mountain, all because I love to climb
Some days I could tell you everything I want
All that is true and beautiful and brave to me
Some days I write myself in circles
Hoping to stumble onto the answer
Life promised to be a moving thing
Then
Remember, the stars
To a Universe
We—in our bones and skin
In our growing and burning—
Barely move at all
With Love,
Natalie