It is a fertile time to shed my skin,
To emerge raw, like clean, white, new paper,
Bones and muscles unformed,
But I have them, sick and crooked.
I used to think I was hollow, but instead
I carry these diseased old guts.
It is something.
I heard that if I drink of the master's water,
I would never thirst. It was untrue.
Still hollow, still empty, I am a perfect vessel
For a bland echo, so cold, freezing cold,
Yet the echo will not precede an avalanche.
I have to shed my skin to let the nothing out,
The world does not understand hollow.
I marvel how emptiness produces words,
How something comes from nothing,
Against all laws of nature.
But then again...I myself am against all laws of nature.
I exist without anything, fatherless like Grendel.
But I shed my skin without blood,
Except for one drop on the pure white snow.
Jan Hauck's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Chrysalis by Jan Hauck )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Warning, Jenny Joseph