The Westward Butterfly
A bow ridding butterfly
Caught in her own cocoon
A cage made of umbilical cord
Voice muffled in amniotic fluid
She sat in a pine meadow
With a crow from the east
Singing about ancient worlds
They shared a vodka feast
Time caught in eternal embrace
Wings shone golden glow
Music entered the northern forest
Eyes dimmed yet little hearts flow
Fear trickled down through canopy
There was noise in valley below
People with fire torches and knives
The crow drank in the pool of sorrow
The shoulders anointed in tears
The butterfly left her essence behind
They ran through the dark forest
Living a dream of a different kind
A white ghost followed her home
Guarding the night from monsters
She found a courage in deviance
She found a way through her fear
Next day she rode the wind westward
She flew back to her terrain
The crow still held the forest branch
Reliving each flutter over and over again.
The crow could feel her on his shoulders still
The place where she shed her childhood tears