:Itches, tingles, on my back
Belly, feet and even two
Antennae sprouting yellowed skin
Stretches tight on pulsing parts
Tightness wraps like snug cocoon
Bringing warmth in autumn wind
But my ranging ocular orbs
Cease to work as scales of skin
Shedding, loosely hang on eyes
Dim the sight of mortal men
And when one day my shell cracks
Dry discomfort sheds from back
Legs, feet, abdomen all free
Head emerges with new sight
New life, new frame to see it is
A blessing from the hand of God
First Version: (Descriptive prose from original observer's point of view)
The second one today--a lifeless preying mantis catches my attention, and I squat like a toddler to peer at it more closely. It has gone to its final repose on its back, with twiggy limbs bent at odd angles. These limbs seem to form a protective arch above the hollowed belly below them. But all the inner clockworkings of this little fellow are now either dry and rattling or sucked gone. His skin surface, a simple shell jacket for now-empty innards, reflects a light amber hue. A tawny autumn leaf resting near his head seems painted from the same palette. My eyes blink appreciatively at nature's color coordination.
A sidewalk forms his backdrop, and I note how the pale gray cement accessorizes itself with a curving crack, forming dark gray angles to cross beneath the center of the mantis abdomen. I shiver when a breeze makes my cheek feel cool. This moving air holds strong enough force to transport the mantis. I watch as the breeze moves him about half an inch forward, sliding his dry outer membrane which makes scratching sounds as it stirs. His head has now slid to touch a portion of the sidewalk marred by a purple stain. The blot has a circular shape which, when positioned behind the mantis head, resembles a two-dimensional halo, like the ones behind faces of saints in medieval tapestries. But I have never been one to promote insects to sainthood, and the head seems even less regal now that I notice the antenna springing from it. The little feelers have become attached to the crusty yellow leaf somehow; this remnant of tree and bit of insect cling together in their mutually dehydrated state. I have realized now he is not dead, but has just shed his exoskeleton.
6 comments:
This is beautiful! As far as the writing goes, I love the sentence variation. Each sentence is different, but they all flow together. The effect is calming: slow, but not tedious. I also loved the religious connections. It adds so much meaning.
A couple thoughts for you:
When I read about the cracks in the sidewalk I saw a potential analogy to the cross in a religious sense. I'm not sure if that's what you're trying to get at, but that's just a thought for you.
Also, the ending of the piece is kind of unclear to me. There's so much detail, it flows so smoothly, and then all of a sudden you realize it just shed its skin. To me, it feels abrupt. But maybe that's the effect you were going for. If so, maybe explain a bit more?
Courtney, this is beautiful. I love that you take something simple that most of us would overlook and make it something significant worth reflecting on.
I do wonder (but this isn't necessarily something that you have to explain in your writing; I'm just curious) why you decided to observe this dead preying mantis. What led you to this thing that most of us would ignore? Perhaps this is something that you consistently observe; am I just insensitive?
I love the way you ended your observation. I think your comment, "I have realized now he is not dead, but has just shed his exoskeleton," leaves the reader with something significant to hold on to. I like that you work through religious analogies that lead the reader to this statement, but you let the readers make a deeper connection on their own. Great job.
The focus of this piece is remarkable. It reminds me of the story of Agassiz's Fish. A famous scholar told his assistant to observe and describe a fish. The next day he told the student to observe the fish again. And again. That is what Moffett wants us to do as writers. You have gone beyond the obvious. What else did you see, hear, feel. You will find universes in a microcosm. You have that ability.
I really like the empiricism of your essay.Its hard to believe that one can right a page about a praying mantis shell. It really bring the life the increasable detail there is in every living thing (or in this case, a dead thing). It's a wonderful example of showing and not telling.
I really like your descriptions of the mantis and your awareness of all that's happening around you. I also really like the realization at the end that the mantis isn't dead, just gone.
I did have one question. I didn't really understand the comment about not being one to promote insects to sainthood. I don't get how it fits with the rest.
Full credit earned for revised version.
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