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.
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 )
- Good deed, Suresh Dogra
- Problems, maria sudibyo
- Free!, maria sudibyo
- Angst, maria sudibyo
- OTP (One True Pairing), maria sudibyo
- Lost, zheung kyuhkoh
- Fall down, lonely, zheung kyuhkoh
- Mission: Fission Or Fusion, Aftab Alam
- My broken heart Transcends, Emmanuel George Cefai
- Red face, Emmanuel George Cefai
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- Acquainted with the Night, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)