Thursday, February 9, 2012

Paper Butterflies

Stripped down to the bare bone by sadness
An emotion that seems to have haunted me for years
My only comfort is the wings of a paper butterfly
The paper butterfly that wraps itself around me
Its ridged edges, folded neatly with care, block the harshness of the world
Still, letting go is sometimes hard to do
But not letting go is the ultimate weight to carry
The ultimate weight of love is a heavy weight indeed
Like a millstone, the pressure will eventually start showing cracks
Hairline at first, then finger size
Then completely falling apart
The tipping point is almost always caused by the smallest of things
Like a river stone smooth and polished from years of being washed over by life
Washed over by what we call love
But when displaced you see its buried side is jagged and sharp
For what’s underneath is always unpolished and uneasy to handle
No doubt love is tricky
Making us live beyond our means
Means of what we know as normal
Means of sanity
Love is sometimes a speeding car in which you are the passenger
You can only watch as one finger at a time is removed from the wheel
Then you look over one day and no one is driving
You’re no longer on the freeway you’ve traveled so long
You’re no longer hugging the center line that leads you home day after day
Somehow someway you have to grab the wheel and take control
You have to make a new start on a path of uncertainty

Published at The Fringe Magazine June 23-2011

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