Metamorphosis, a poem by Shikha S. Lamba at



written by: Shikha S. Lamba



She met leaves that looked like butterflies
and as she moved consciously to not trample the
tree offerings, a kaleidoscope of wings
flew erratically above her head.

Propelling to the skies, moving up
as the leaves flew down.
One’s time was done, the other’s just begun,
one being shed and one shedding into rebirth.

The trees weave no cocoon,
no hiding place to morph and grow anew,
unlike the fragile winged Mariposa who can seek
solace in the isolation of its metamorphosis,

the trees transform openly.

As change knocks daily, persistent in its
requirement of her, she thinks of how she transforms.
How does she shed the layers
binding her to a season time-worn?

She knows she resists; she knows she’s afraid,
she knows she doesn’t yet fly unrestrained.
So, she’ll live in the comfort of change.
Transforming, be it part cocooned, part free,
part butterfly, part tree.

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