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Wounded Butterfly
WOUNDED BUTTERFLY
Calm reigns within the sleepy confines
of a child’s precarious cocoon,
where silk strands weave a subtle pattern
against foreign assault.
Rumbles felt first upon a winter’s night
precursor threads ripping and a gangly caterpillar
thrust into a rusting Studebaker
under the shadow of a drunken father,
framed in the doorway,
burned into the screen.
Still pictures of racing pavement
viewed through rotting floorboards
and moonlit snow stained with fleeting shadows
as rivers crossed fade behind
and a rocky shield swallows a fleeing family.
Years pass; small flights are taken;
snow melts and silk coverings are removed.
Butterflies stripped of wings are but caterpillars still,
and such am I.
© 1999 Barton J. Breen
