why do I feel so empty?
is it lifeless or lightness?
how do I crack down now that I’m cracked open
vulnerable and open
newness passing through me
faint new connections squirming
oddly
like newborn voles.
how will i control them
when they start scuttling about
with minds of their own
in a dangerous world?
they need help.
i’m not a mother/i’m a new mother
i don’t know what to do.

it’s innate.

it’s not, i’m dying.

I’m free? falling I’m flailing and failing,
old rules structures and limits
scratch my “new” body,
the delicacy of who I always was
expresses contradiction: the oldest part of me
has the least practice of freely being.

yolk still wet on my wings,
I’m too early.

you are right where you need to be.

yolk strings between my feathers as I stretch and shake.
I’m sticky and clunky
glossy, and viscous expectations suffocate me.
my throat, my throat,
my eyes,
i can’t swallow,
i can’t see.
i can’t see.

you are free. You are open.

I can’t.

I won’t push you out of the nest. But you are free to go anytime.

I’ll wait/I’ll wait