Apricot Press

In darkness wrapped, I count the days
by heartbeats, not by light.
My body melts to liquid thought,
imaginal cells ignite.

What was once mouth becomes proboscis,
legs unfurl like morning glory.
Each molecule remembers how
to tell this ancient story.

Through jade green walls, the world refracts:
a kaleidoscope of waiting.
Until one dawn, the shell grows thin,
my new self contemplating

the weight of wings, still damp with time,
their patterns yet unread.
I stretch toward sun, unfold myself:
all that I was is dead,

and everything I'll ever be
takes flight in spangled air.
The wind beneath these newfound wings
whispers: dare, dare, dare.

Photo credit: Bankim Desai