Becoming Peacock

In this chrysalis of my making
they tattoo my wings,
violent needles drumming
powerful symbols of my tribe;
vibrant orange of sunrise,
eyes flashing daylight
cerulean blue, yellow, striped
in the velvety blackness of my underbelly.

Peacock butterfly am I.
I am a living story.
I ease myself from this chrysalis,
hone intelligent antennae,
my pupa past is but a hanging shade
as I crawl out delicately,
unfold my wings
and fly boldly into a world transformed.

Peacock

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2 thoughts on “Becoming Peacock

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