Soft-Shelled Egg

Hide me away

In a soft-shelled egg

Like a leatherback turtle waiting to be born.

Only-

I don’t want to wait in the dark. I want

To see the moonlight

filter through the outer membrane

milky white and calcified,

The only signal of motherly warmth afforded

To this cold-blooded existence.

It is said that the exact

Moment after breaking through their eggshells

the baby turtles engage in a desperate race

head first into the crashing waves as gulls descend

to devour those who would not survive the contest of the fittest.

Hide me away -

floating in fluid stasis nestled

In embryonic suspension

I could rest shielded

from the violence and noise

my own shell may remain

Soft and pliable for the time being.

It is also known, by the rule of science, that

the reflection of the moonlight is what beckons

These innocents into the ocean, where they belong,

And thousands of hatchlings respond to the call.

I am not so sure about this. I would want to stay

encased in this womb - I would ignore that call, I would

Defy science. Inside is eternal comfort and outside is only

A frenzy until the end. Nothingness

seems preferable to that fate.

Here, the deafening roar of an unfathomable sea

Is dampened, bearable;

Distant as all

Possibility.

Yet

In one Singular moment

the urge of life will suddenly arrive like a

Wave crashing on the shore

And with it the strength

to break through this soft shelled life

And, the first thing I’ll see

in the harsh and unforgiving night is a small,

bright, round egg

Floating in the sky. A lantern

reminding me of my safety, and signaling almost

maternally

That this cold beach

The sting of the salted air

And the tempestuous waters ahead

Are not a mistake. But a fact of life.

“Be brave, little one,” a message

From my mother the moon

Carries for her.

Onward, to live out my days.