216365_502543458297_7339_nCaptured beneath a frozen layer of apathy and secrecy
Locked tightly from the view of prying eye
The real me, the caterpillar waiting for the death
That seems slow and imminent,

Not knowing that this is just a fragment of my metamorphosis

Achy bones and tired hands from writing out all my plans,
And crumpling them all tightly as I toss the pages into the waste bin,
It has never done me any good to hypothesize my possible future,
Instead I have to catch a breeze to float on

So that my seed will land on ground that is fertile,
And hope that the conditions will be optimal,
That I will take root and begin to sprout,
New life from what has been sacrificed

But now,
This all seems so cold and fatalistic,
Like a kiss of death
Watching, my life, the movie
Praying that these first scenes have not been suffering in vain

When do we find the good parts? Do we discover that we were too busy waiting for them, that we lived through them blindly?

Frozen. Pause this scene. I’m frozen.


4 thoughts on “Frozen

  1. I really like this Ashley! It is full of emotions – like a rollercoaster. At least that is how I read it. I sometimes feel the same way. I am not sure where I am going and I want to make sure that whatever I have done will not be done in vain. I am always worried that God is looking upon me and not being as proud of me as He expected. I want to be all that He created me to be. I really enjoy your posts! Thanks for sharing…

      • Poetry is vulnerability (I probably murdered that spelling – big word for me) I am the same way with my poems. They are formed within the depths of our own being and when we put them out there it is like opening a window to our souls and that is scary! So I totally get it!

      • But it is a part of me. And I am really longing to be more transparent and authentic. And sometimes poetry is the only way that I can do that without sounding like a total idiot.

        And you spelled it correctly. 🙂

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