Speckled Turkey Egg… Creamy white, pink and blue Chicken… perfectly round Gecko.
You hold the entire World within a fragile shell
Fallen through the cracks, miles above her mother, wet, naked, cold.
She could have been another tragedy, a soul given but a moment
Tucked under warm wings.
Have you ever seen babies be born from eggs? I have heard the cheeps of chicks behind that shell, pecking fiercely to be free… born wet and helpless. Sometimes they come out with the umbilical still attached, their insides out, and you know that you can’t do anything except
let her die under her mother’s warm body.
I have seen geckos born from the tiniest of eggs hidden in my laundry basket, no bigger than my pinky nail, they jump free, innate, knowing exactly what to do, their reptilian brain keeps them alive. Spiders bursting free from the egg sack, they cling to their mother’s web and in days float away…
Tadpoles, eyes moving back and forth through translucent film, dangling from a leaf, did the mother hang it just right? Will it hit ground or fall as intended into the water, fate resting on a few inches.
The egg turns to water and the wiggly beings are set free,
nurtured by the microorganisms in the water,
not for 8-12 weeks will they develop froggy legs.
I have seen my own eggs, collected and fertilized outside of my own body. Multiplying like the flower of life, the cells replicate perfectly. All that potential right there in a petri dish,
a person, some beautiful soul… my body rejects.
This world is an egg, a membrane encasing us… we are born of the Earth and we die on this Earth,
to give life to more eggs.