The Cocoon Broke Open

The Cocoon Broke Open

(“Many people are suffering—crushed by the weight of their troubles. But the is a refuge for them, a safe place they can run to.” Psalm 9:9)

The doorway was locked to him,
he would not have entered anyway.
The doormat said, “all welcome”,
he knew he would have to become like them.

His wounds were invisible to all but his friends
who listened to his soul.  

So people thought his tears were
for dramatic effect. They thought he should control
his emotions. They thought God should have healed him.
They thought he must have done a lot of nasty shit to
be so broken so easily.

And maybe he did.
And maybe he didn’t.

He tried the promise of sanctuary in the habitat of
pews and stained glass,
to tents and loud guitars,
to youth groups and flag football,
to speaking in tongues and baptisms in ponds,
to trying to stop rainstorms with mighty prayer
and repair the breaches that
did not desire to be repaired.

And finally, the cocoon broke open and his
slimy
wings felt more vulnerable than before. For a moment
he wished
to be back in the front row, reading the hymns, tapping his toes,
and imaging halos around the choir members.

In time his wings were dry, and fluttering,
getting his bearings, he landed upon the first place
he could find. Her hair was auburn as she worked
in her garden. He alit upon the top of her head, resting
before his next excursion. And then, unexpectedly he
heard her thoughts:

“Now I feel like a Disney princess.”