I am a cicada

My life started in the ground
I was taught to dig at a young age because that was the only way to stay
away from the predators outside.
They could smell our fear and that is how they hunted us
We felt trapped in the place that was supposed to make us feel safe.
We dug tunnels and created these underground communities that were
We would feed upon the roots of the giving tree because everything else was
This was our life
Dig. Eat. Stay inside…
There are always predators outside.
I heard stories about cicadas who have gone outside and it usually went one
of two ways: they were eaten as soon as they reached the surface
Or they grew wings.
I wonder how it would feel like to fly
To feel a gust of freedom blow off this dirt that has been tattooed to my skin
They told me not to go outside
Because that’s what we were taught when we were young and it seems like
the most logical thing to do right?
But why is it that the place that is supposed to be safe makes us feel like we
can’t be free?
Each year brought me closer and closer to building up the courage to go
Whenever I thought about it, I imagined that gust of freedom again
But I also imagined the predators chewing on my bones.
They hated me despite never speaking a word to me
But they were raised to hate us just as we were raised to fear them.
Then the day came when my shell began to harden
I began to travel to the surface and saw my memories painted on the walls
of these tunnels
My whole life has been down here, but that’s not the life I should have been
I saw the sunlight, the grass, and the sky.
I even saw the top half of the giving tree
It was so much to take in at once but I also noticed that the predators were
nowhere to be seen.
Where the predators ever here?
Or were they made up so no one would leave?
I finally got to the tree trunk and thanked the giving tree for all she has
given me.
My skin began to shed and I felt like the weight of all problems have just
been lifted
I looked back and noticed how ugly my old skin used to be
I could also see my wings and they were ever so beautiful

Author: arthurg

philosopher, iconoclast, technoboy, musician, conjuration battle-mage, dean