Ash backwards, poem by Betsy Mars (My Meta-morphosis Series)

Silver Birch Press

Ash backwards
by Betsy Mars

I hear the shofar singing:
ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
announcing a new year.
The frequency of the sounds breaks the shell of my cocoon of self-      doubt,
I stand on the edge observing

Tentative wings spread wide, still flimsy and muscles stretching.
No longer flattened with atrophy, shielding a fragile core.
Antennae reaching here and there, sensing
Into the possible, relentless

Old ways infiltrate, voices insinuate.
The jobs you didn’t get, the people who abandoned you,
the publishers who rejected you. The insultingly low expectations of
Incompetency, a need for external protection.

Refuting your latent lisp and baby fat, your thick glasses.
Your secret crushes and puberty
full of magnified flaws and hair follicles sprouting.
Hormonal tendrils creeping into your childish freedom,
strangling the breath with strange excitement.

Back in the present, with a new presence of mind,
a new stage…

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