---

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.