Breaking free from the shell
Let me out , let me out ,
Fresh smells filter down through yellow spring green leaves
My eyes open to take in bright gold light
I sense a cool gentle wispier of air
As it ruffles my still damp downy feathers
I am breaking out, one tap of the beak
I am breaking out , I am breaking out
I shake off the shell that surrounds me
Shards of pale green and pastel blue
Litter the tangle of twigs and moss
Knitted together safe and warm
I stand for the first time
I have broken out
I am free
Heather Bowering
This poem xrays the pain one would bear before a new birth and then the joy of sidling or breaking forth into newness. The persona desires a birth may be esoteric or literally and was satisfied to have finally found what is demanded at that serious moment in time.
