It’s all symbolic,
how my feet crunch the fallen leaves below me
as the trees shed their dead
Similar to my experience at the Korean spa-
Me, on the table
splayed out, bare, like a cadaver.
Her, in her black bra and underwear.
Me, naked, misplaced in various positions.
Her, using mitts to de-shed me,
to peel the layers and layers of dead
that have been strangling me.
I’m fighting underneath to be let out of this cocoon—
subtle, slow movements,
like quicksand it appears
the fight hidden, inside.
You see still—complacent, brown, dull
I’m inside—alive, vibrant, aware
I leave the table after 90 minutes
with a whole lot less skin.
Perhaps this is a new mindset
Spring. It’s coming.
Perhaps every winter we shed the dead
like the trees.
We always leave a cocoon behind
and arrive as something more alive,
A butterfly is born in spring.
Perhaps this year is different
because I’m awakened, I’m aware.
I can acknowledge that I continue to shed layers
and continue to bring forth a new me.