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The Wounded Butterfly
About one month ago:
In a parking lot, walking to my yellow jeep...
On the tar was a wounded butterfly.
Flipping and flopping: this side to that side...
It was one of those majestic yellow tails,
The kind with the yellow and black wings...
The kind with the liquid black body with yellow stripes.
I put my hand down in front of it...
It so eagerly crawled into my hand that at first
I thought perhaps it only needed a moment,
A moment to recover, A moment to shake off...
Whatever kept it from flying.
As it lay in my palm...
my moment of rest theory faded...
I felt it dying!
I just knew it!
All that I could offer it...
Was that it would not die alone.
I got into the car and lay it on my chest...
So that it would not die alone.
Driving home, stopping at a stop sign...
I look down and finally see...
It's poor body is split from head to tail,
The green goo of it's life force shimmering, spilling...
And all that I could offer it was that it...
Did not have to die alone!
I felt it's life moving further and further away.
I felt it cross to a place unseen and all that
I had given it was that it did not die alone.
I was sad but not because it died.
I was sad that though I have died from those
Familar thousands of deaths that souls die,
I could not find in my memory any friend that...
Came to me,
Lifted me to a comfort, that comprehended...
That all they had to offer me was...
That I should not die alone!
A battered soul oft does not want the words that can heal...
A shattered soul wants no more than a companion...
Whose silent presence ... steadies like steel.
Author: 'C'
Thank You!
Did you get chilz too?
Embrace and Hug here : paganseer@netscape.com - 'C'
Posted: 11:13:50 AM
link to this article: http://www.marinasmasters.com/2006/categories/articles/2007/07/19.html#a2060
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