Cracked open,
because I am
not broken.
Under the cold
hard
earth,
I wait in darkness,
shivering against the strain
of anticipation.
Waiting anxiously for what
I do not know.
Slowly,
warmth spreads through me
like a new breath.
I am myself,
but not the same self
that quivered
in darkness.
No.
Growing slowly upward,
blindly searching for the source,
I hold my head high until I can see.
And when I do, it’s beautiful.
And when I do, it’s perfect.
And when I do, it’s breathtaking.
I reach higher
toward the blue and clouds
and the supernova.
I climb higher
until I can
climb no more.
I bow my head in
solemn meditation.
Until,
I lift my chin
and blossom.