Pupa Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Pupa

It is nine; I in car
Dangerous is drive
Can skid, can slip
Left to right, back-forward
The brakes can assist the failure.
I drive open mind
Look at road and roadsides
Roads sloshed
Splash mud of salt.
See people's head covered
In the hoods, caps, in times
Plain and colourless
Or blue- red-green umbrellas
An unborn butterfly or the moth
A Pupa safe inside large Chrysalis.

My mind too emerges from its chrysalis;
Self-conscious
And flies Pole to pole
And soars high in skies
Galaxies and stars
Stops at Black-hole
It looks-like mid-ear
And the hell to most faiths;
-Both endless in time and in space
(Width and Length, and the depth.)

People turn Eskimo
The vanished and seen not
Just photos and painting
Any-way, remaking
I feel life among them
And love them
Mourning walk to shrines
They are made of the ice
Sleep there with their souls
Each of them wiser than each of us
In igloos reverse cold into hot
Not using the gasses of AC.

Am I too an insect immature somewhere in larva to adulthood?