Exoskeleton

[summer_jackel]

Spiderling tarantula in a box upon my dresser
stepped out of her skin today.
I can imagine her
slowly drawing each leg up carefully,
through the constraining shell
meticulously pulling her body out
cleaning her tender softness
gazing out through clearer eyes.

And any tear is death.
We have to grow, or die
and sometimes both.
The price we pay for life,
this effort,
sometimes too dear, or not enough
lends space for fragile beauty.
Larger, brighter
she stands upon her soft web
with her longer legs, fresh colors
closer to what she might be;
more herself.