The Chrysalis (this place I do life)
a poem, Sherri Stone-Bennett

It’s dark in here. In this place I do life.

Feels like I’ve been here forever, hanging around . . .dangling about in the thinnest of air.

       Or . . .is there air? Don’t feel it, sense it, 

            yet I know I’m still here . . .

Not much to see here, either, in this place I do life.

Abstract images, much like my thoughts, tossing about . . .

       Why this? Why that? When this?

       What if not?

Dark shadows and faint light, all in monotone hue.

Then the next single day . . .

       Is that sun shining through?

Even that’s hard to look at with eyes accustomed to the dark.

So, I squint. Barely able to take it in. Enjoy its shine on me.

       Care for my soul . . .accept it graciously . . .

It’s hard to make out anything, either, in this place I do life.

Hard to distinguish whether I’m up or down. Maybe sideways? All turned around . . .

I am not who I used to be, yet not who I’ll become.

       So, who am I in this hidden place completely unknown?

       Or am I even at all? So wholly undone?

Can’t give, can’t receive, here in this place I do life. 

Nothing in. Nothing out. All energy spent on forming . . .wondering . . .thinking . . .

       simply being . . .

Completely unusable. Untouchable. Unstable. Unable.

        Perhaps that’s the worst . . .feeling wildly incapable . . .

I cry here, often, in this place I do life.

Hidden tears roll madly, uncontrollably . . .perhaps sometimes too timidly . . .

And where do they go to, with no place to escape through?

       They absorb back into me, too often, too easily.

       Determined to affect every cell, piece, and part of me.

       Secretly altering my very identity.

       Or, maybe, perhaps, even trying to become me . . .

I don’t know anymore.

I’ve lost all sense of me.  

And yet . . .

There’s a small space where hope lives, in this place I do life.

It offers respite. Contentment. And peace.

       I know I’ll survive.

Though I’m not able to do anything, much less try that or this,

He can. He will. He wants to.

            He is.

My job’s to be still. Let Him work. Do as He wishes.

       Trust that the stillness is exactly what His will is.

So, I’ll stay here with Him, in this place I do life.

            Evidence my trust by awaiting this meantime.

Listen closely to the voice that has always been by me,

            ever eager to speak words that will love, calm, and guide me . . .

Rest, the Master says . . .

            Rest in chrysalis I have formed just for you.

            Rest in the messy. The uncomfortable. The blue.

            There is value in the dark. You can trust Me; it’s true.

            For what’s growing there is freedom, and custom wings too!

            Maybe orange or bright green or the deepest maroon . . .

            Either way, they’ll be strong,

            having been tried, tested, and true.

            They will fly you to new heights and places anew . . .

            So, hold on to these thoughts of what together we’ll do!

            And remember My grace.

            I’m forever for you.

To receive posts by email click here.