Caterpillar

I was born with 12 eyes

they said it would make it easier

to see the light

but it only left me inching

in a fog

hiding from shape-shifting shadows.

So I learned to consume the dark

with my mandibles

and let it seep in to my hemolymph.

The parasitoids laid out fences

of peppermint and lavender -

trying to cage me.

But the oak tree took me in

and let me rest upon her leaves -

told me to shed my old skin.

I hung myself upside down under her branches

tried to see the world from their point of view

but there was still so little light,

and the birds were cawing

threatening to have me for breakfast.

I learned to hold myself tightly,

wrapped in imaginal discs

that liquified my dreams

into a rich soup for me to drink.

I emerged

soft and wet -

with ommatidia that see in all directions

and bear witness to invisible colors;

and with wings formed like dragon scales,

that move in the shape of infinity.

Now I feast with my feet,

feeding on nectar of Chloris

and cross continents

And they marvel at how far I have come

from the ground they tried to keep me on.

Participant's Poems