Unfolding The Butterfly

Written in Wexford, October 2012

He sees her.

He knows her.

But she looks like s**t.

Squashed in her chrysalis,

the dark winter of her soul,

fingers bent,

long scratching nails

forgotten

during the freeze.

Yet still alive.

Her shrunken heart -

hollow in her chest,

still murmurs

and tells of its weak existence.

Too weak to fight back,

too sore to feel pain,

trapped in her translucent world

weeping inwardly.

Suddenly a miracle happens.

A yellow blade of light appears -

cuts through the undergrowth.

Finds the angle

hitherto unfound

plays heat on her brittle shell

Cracks.

Splits along a seam.

The tiny heart stirs.

The heat stings.

The air smells.

She flickers involuntarily.

Then she remembers...

Reviews

[Circe]

this felt like wrenching out an organ... deeply incisive.. to watch the beautiful creature struggle helplessly.. a brilliant write.

[C.R.Turner]

Thank you!

[Ees]

you got me with those first three lines. I love this. You set a tone and mood.
Awesome poem- moving forward, it does come. Fantastic job!

[C.R.Turner]

Thank you Ees!!!

[PP]

So apt :) so true! Thank you!

[C.R.Turner]

Fly with me.