To watch the process described below, please visit the previous post, Monarch Metamorphosis.
Writhing and wriggling out of its old creepy-crawly self,
Exposing soft shimmer of green-gold iridescence beneath.
Blind, paralyzed, vulnerable,
Burgeoning butterfly contracts and hardens
In filigreed jade casket.
Days creep. Casket hangs still,
No visible change, no growing girth,
No crutch of evidence upon which faith can lean,
But burgeoning butterfly forms within.
Jade fades to grey, then black as death.
Then shadowed, black-veined rust
Shines through death’s veil
Like first orange gleam of sun in eastern sky.
Hours pass; then
Burgeoning butterfly breaches,
Blooms out backward,
Wings limp and ruffled as hibiscus petals,
Body swollen, a polka-dot capsule.
Carefully it crawls up translucent shards
Of chrysalis casket.
Clinging there, it sways side to side,
Burgeoning butterfly body pumping life
Into wings spreading and filling like a kite
Catching a breeze.
Proboscis furls and unfurls
Like the tongue of a cat as she grooms.
Burgeoning butterfly drips golden tears,
Rocking, rocking its newborn self.
Burgeoning butterfly comes to rest,
Labor-wearied from burst bonds.
Hours harden wings.
Burgeoning butterfly finds a blossom;
Sips nourishing nectar;
Leaves behind shed skin,
Empty tomb;
Presses forward to what lies ahead.
