MagiCicada
by
stephanie pope

A magicicada septendecim
Onto a treebranch crept
Called by the fire of resurgence
Honoring those years of its making
Caught in a drama of emergence
Too short-lived and breath taking

Yet, she was not alone in her step
Not alone in what compelled her to survive
All those immeasurably sleepy years
The downpouring drowned out those years
She no longer had them to cling to
Although those years
Still danced in her darkly

She came
From underneath the ooze
Which had hardened
Into a little hollow heart
Necessarily so
To both keep her safe
And to release her now
She had nothing to
Hold onto no
Firm support until that treebranch

Surely a great power
Pressed down upon her from within
A great primordial urge pressed down
Until something in her
Cracked from side to side
Then she (half sick of shadows)
Heard her subterranean skin split wide

A magicicada septendecim
Onto a treebranch crept
Like a little fairy creature freed in time
To grow its wings in time, just in time
To join the gathering and sing