Forgive me my oversight,
The stubborn ways I never notice
You, a Monarch among butterflies
With designs for a universe
Drawn with black ink on your yellow wings
The size of a child’s palm—You, who rose from a caterpillar’s bed,
A Sabbath rest, a contemplation,
Can now fly.
But you come to rest
On my finger.
In this haven, where butterflies
Are kept safe, and we mingle,
You touch me with the grace of dew
On morning’s ragged shawl.
I am drab and earthbound,
Clothed in the colors of stone and sand.
It makes it hard for me to greet you.
My hand trembles.
So I close my eyes,
But the act of closing doesn’t soothe me.
I open my eyes.
You were waiting.
I am your perch.
You are my miracle.
We stand together
Like tree and cradle.
My hands flutter,
Your wings shake,
But for one long minute,
We are steadfast.
And maybe, we are both amazed.
