Chrysalis (Poetry)

Age and illness have together cobbled crude
this brittle body-sac of liquid pain
from the shape I was — frail limbs — unflexing — glued
skin-petals dry remembering youth’s rain.

The salvaged spirit floats old dreams inside its shell
concentrates pure essence — gathers hot and deep
the years bring comfort gleaned from wisdom’s well
while drugs knit round a nest where thin bones sleep.

Just a stage — suspensive — freedom’s mould not set
faith’s chemicals in flux the wait begins
true Dark’s a filter — skims away regret
and Death perfects a gift of sapphire wings.