Swallowtail
It’s strange how much of myself I leave behind
the skins I shed, the shadows I slough,
the crooked edges I carve away
A breadcrumb trail of metamorphoses
left in my wake
I used to mourn the deaths of all my past lives
Bury them with grave dirt caked beneath my nails
But now I see that every death is a birth
Every burial a beginning
Every shed skin a chrysalis
For the newborn heart beneath
Let every sunset be a gateway
to the dawn beyond the door
And should you find my trail of shed skins & shadows
Don’t follow me, love—
but carve your own path.
