We exploded out, all twirling kaleidoscopic razzmatazz, twisting and snarling, not knowing our strength.
Just one being but we didn’t know our number, surprised by our multitudes.
Our sudden release.
We were beautiful then, slicing through the fresh air with ease.
But then they came, attaching themselves slowly to our sides.
We slowed, as our gorgeous rippling pelt became pockmarked with filth.
The barnacles crept across our flesh like a sneer.
We hardened then, slowly dragged to the ground by the constant insistent pricking.
As we lay, curled, turning grey, they tried to sweep us back.
Brooms, pushing us back in our box, afraid we erupt again.
We won’t go.
We are beautiful still.