THE AWAKENING - Poem by Margaret Wilde

The Awakening

It seemed through endless ages that the fire had raged,
Fuel been expended and destruction wrought. -
The fire burned,
And having burned,
All was consumed.
It seemed that there remained but ashes.
And yet,
And yet,
There struggled forth –
A phoenix? –
No. –
The tiny cocoon of a worm lay on the pyre.

The minute creature
Has begun to gnaw
Its way to life.

With what strange form will the awakened one
Alarm us? –
This consciousness
Formed out of tragedy and outrage?
What metamorphosis
Shall we be privileged to view?

No, no.
It is too dangerous,
Too tender,
Too shaming,
And far, oh far too brave,
This small endeavour. –
Quick!
The insecticide!
Kill! Kill!

We will unwind its gossamer;
We will sew up its gentle, dying mouth.


Margaret Wilde © 2009