Forced to Fly

I used to be a butterfly,

I used to move freely in the world,

From town to town,

Country to country,

Wherever the wind would take me

 

Sometimes I would rest for a while in somebody’s palm,

Take a breath,

Share some moments,

But I wouldn’t stay,

Because butterflies need to fly.

 

One day a man’s palm felt like more than a roadhouse to me,

It felt like a home,

I would still fly out into the world,

But I was always eager to return to him,

To his warmth and his shelter.

 

But he knew better than me,

He saw that I was a butterfly.

He didn’t even see my dreams,

Of resting in his palm forever,

My boredom with flying.

 

And then, when the breeze turned into a storm,

He failed to keep me safe.

I couldn’t hold onto his opened hand,

And the wind blew me away,

And here I am again, flying like a butterfly.

 

(Painting: Jackson Pollock)

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