Years of oppression will do that to you. You spend so long suffering fools, you don't know what to do when the wise man hands you a drink of the waters of freedom. You aren't supposed to give me wings; now that they are mine, I am loath to return them.
Pretty little thing, blowing in the wind. Secret metamorphosis. I crawled the earth until I found you; your love cocoons me until I grow to be what I always knew was inside of me. Gently blowing on my new wings to dry them out. Carressing them with your faith with your breath until they spread out before you. Shhh now. Don't look. I am scared.
I turn into a moth of sorts; still pretty in a strange sort of way, but fearsome in another way. You don't know what to do with me. Having grown accustomed to the affectionate and touchable caterpillar, you don't know how to function around the restless and temperamental winged creature I have grown to be. If you touch me there, will I break? Will my wings crumple under your longing? Will I fly away from you now?
Tethered back by love. Seeing a big bright world out there, made more beautiful by the night. The light is so bright and it lures me in. You cannot stand to watch. Will it swallow me whole, will I perish?
Love nets me in. Love pins me down. Places a label at my feet. I am more than this; I now have wings. Why are you afraid to let me fly?
thank you for the gift | 
