The Butterfly In Me

I am a

beautiful, blue, butterfly.

I was born to fly high.

I search for my rights,

seeking a simple, peaceful,

delicate life that befits me.

Yet,

the pattern of my flight

has been filled with obstacles

and dangers,

coaxing me to taste the honey,

daring me to lite, to delight,

pulling me to stay put sometimes in

unseemly, scary, life-sucking situations.

Unknown monsters and

vivid creatures have cast shadows

on my very existence.

They have chased me,

and touched me,

rubbing away the chitin scales

that let me fly,

and allow me to be free.

I’ve been afraid

sometimes.

Yet,

just in time,

I remember.

I am a butterfly.

I was meant to fly high.

I am beautiful.

I am blue.

I beg to belong,

forever flitting forward.

This butterfly can soar once more.

This butterfly does dart amid

daisies, delighting in life again.

The monsters and creatures

will threaten no more.

Because I am who I am.

I am a

beautiful, blue butterfly.                                                     Judith DeChesere-Boyle, 2013 (revised)

Writing helps us record life’s realities. The past is not always pretty, but our experiences offer us lessons, and through those, we learn if we are open to it. Sometimes, just by putting pen to paper (or fingers to the keyboard) we create an opportunity for clarity.