Metamorphosis

words by Agnes Cho

Eggs become caterpillars;

Hatching into a new place, new people, new things. She eats, and eats, and eats. Absorbing information like a hungry child reaching for her yogurt melts. Some of the leaves are bitter, others sweet, even spiky! Through the tall stems, vines, and weeds, she must munch on some milkweed, of course. Clover, beans, peas, and those decadent cherry-tree leaves! Perhaps a bit obsessively, but everything is so fresh and crisp, like new notebooks and the unfamiliar smell of the countryside.

And caterpillars become cocoons;

After much rumination, she finds herself alone. Springtime passions have ceased. The sobriety and stability of summer have returned, but at what cost? She’s eaten enough. Really, she’s had enough. Enough of the predators. Enough of the tantrums. Enough of seeing her home invaded by locusts. She finds solace in her solitude. The sun’s warmth has become more scorching than cozy, and the wasps have started to hog the flowers. They hiss and snarl if she gets too close, and so do the birds who stalk and drool, prowling like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Summer squalls cause her to shiver underneath the drenched leaves and hold tight, so as not to lose her home and her heart. Enveloping herself tightly in the safety of her skin, though it feels strange at times. It’s itchy, it’s peeling, it slices against her lumps and bumps.

And cocoons become butterflies;

One year goes by. Then two, then three… then four? She looks around to find herself snuggled against a flower… and upside down? A lavender! Oh, how lovely! She looks around once more to see that her once tiny, chubby hands have become much larger and quite callused. “These are my hands,” she thinks to herself. Hands that touched. Hands that created. Hands that danced and played. Hands that lost and hurt, but most importantly, hands that loved and cherished. She finally understands this season of waiting and dormancy. To wake up and be unveiled to the knowledge that all happens for a reason, and for good. She still loves her yogurt melts, but she also loves everything from her slightly crooked antennas, that one battle scar from fighting off a blue jay, and all the way down to her curved abdomen and two short legs. Perhaps there are still wounds worth healing, and wings worth drying, but for now, she can feel the glow of the summer sun, and it is enough. She is enough.