Wednesday Words – Seedstones

Last September I posted some seeds as stones here on my blog. They came out of something I went through earlier in 2012. I wrote down how I felt to try and make sense of myself and what I was going through. I originally posted this blog at WOWH
The seed that has died and produced growth, both downwards and upwards finds colour in the sunlight. From thin, pale shoots, the plant develops into greenness – stalk, leaf and flower bud. But if the seed had not died it would not be transformed, decay only would have happened and another animal or plant would have benefited from its aborted life. I feel brittle and hollow, crispy and ragged round the edges, like egg shells. One good swipe and I’ll break. But at the same time I feel soft and sodden like the willing seed who cast off its hard shell of potential in order to become something beautiful, something beyond its wildest dreams (if seeds dream).
Then my thoughts moved to the caterpillar, earth-bound, driven by insatiable hunger to devour everything edible within its reach. It cannot understand why it travels fast to find a high place, sheltered, protected. Or why it feels the need to secure itself by a silken thread around its middle. It cannot form thought, it is totally driven by programming, instinct. But if it didn’t respond, let itself melt down, allow the chemical change to occur, it would not become the breeze-driven, sun blest, butterfly released from the bounds of gravity to dance in the air and drink nectar…
I think I am still somewhere in between – blindly trying to see where I’m going, what shape my writing should take, waiting for the change to happen or am I in charge of the change myself…?
My original seedstones can be viewed at September 2012
© Freya Pickard 2013
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