Culture Cocoon: Metamorphical Grief

I want to be in #turkiye, #india, or #dubai right now. Curled up in a hotel bed while the sounds of mosques and temples whirl around in the air outside my window as I write poetry. That’s all. That’s all I’m asking.

I am longing for the other side of the planet 🥺

Tomorrow will be 30 days since my mother passed and I still don’t feel like myself. I just want the space and the distance and the cradle of a new culture to comfort me as I immerse myself into an abysmal depth of poetry writing, shadow work, reflection, and introspection. The cocoon is of course an unfamiliar place to the caterpillar. It is foreign. And just as the caterpillar emerges from the alien place of cocoon so I want to melt inside some foreign landscape until my transformation is complete and I’m ready for a new journey with a new physicality. I want so desperately to go from crawling to flying.

Sadness is a universal language. It is understood with the eyes & felt with the heart. Whether the language is Turkce, Punjab, or Arabic a great deal of communication & connection can take place without ever speaking the first word when it comes to this common rite of passage of all humanity.

My mother….she is now….away. And, I want to be as well.

I want away….from here. I need….to be there. Not here. And, I suspect even this simple need is yet another mirror…..

Love, Cozett

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