Mirror Magazine

It was nice while it lasted,
Idyllic even…
Those early days
Secure among the fresh green leaves.

But now the cocooned isolation’s over.
Now my time has come.
I am a chrysalis no more,
So set me free.

I must find my flower,
So the cycle can go on.

The sunlight beckons, Mother.
For life is too short
To be lived in the shade.

I know of the predators,
Some visible, others hidden.
My wings are fragile,
But strong enough
To take me to safety.

So, let me spread my wings,
Let me go
The way of the butterflies…

With squeals of delight, she carried the glass jar out into the garden, and lifted the lid. Her patience had been well rewarded. Out flew a beautiful, yellow butterfly!

With eyes full of wonder, at the miracle she had witnessed, she watched the little butterfly – now, drying its wings on a leaf.

Out came kitty, tail held high, spotted the butterfly, and leapt at the plant. Up rose the butterfly – on its very first flight, and flew away. Its life had just begun.

Gossamer wings
Traced with tinted lines and patterns.
Delicate darlings
Flying softly in the wind.
I cannot fathom the wonder
Of you
Emerging so beautifully
From a cocoon of tight security.
How was it like
When in your freedom
You found
You had wings?
When my rigid cocoon of
Self-pity and pride broke,
I was afraid –
But to my wonder
I found –
I had wings!

They fly, they say, in their special way
All in their hordes, on their special days.
A thousand pale and brilliant lights
of flickering amber and yellow delight!
And yet, alas! Such a wondrous sight
to us, is but a bitter fight
'gainst high winds, to butterflies who flutter on,
soaring to heights, they fly at dawn.
But the gentle, the dainty, the broken-winged
are dashed upon rock, ’ere they begin
while others, stronger, soar to great heights
and perish not before the fast approaching Night

The dew drops glittered
like marbles
In the morning sun light.
Multicoloured flowers
danced rhythmically
to the soft breeze as
I took her hand and lead her
to the garden.
“Mama… what are these?”
She asked me,
showing some pebbles
tightly holding in her hand
like precious jewels!
She touched them
One by one
carefully…
A beautiful butterfly
parting from a
newly blossomed rose,
brushed passed her
accidentally and
looked surprised,
to be ignored
by the little girl
like the flower itself!
My heart wept.
Will she ever love
Rainbows and
Butterflies.?..

Taking out his key, he unlocked his box and proudly showed me his collection… again.
His collection of dead butterflies…
…hundreds
…beautiful to behold
…each pinned down by a nail that ran through their fragile body
…and yet vibrant – even in death
Didn’t they all surrender their carefree lives
and depart without even a complaint… just to make him happy?
I meticulously surveyed his face…
Shuddering, I looked at my ring… Reflecting back on all those years… I finally realized that perhaps I too was just another butterfly to him.

Lovely butterfly,
I marvel at your beauty
as you flutter by,
flashing your delicate wings
adorned with rainbow hues
and intricate patterns
like lace.
Were you born a human,
gentle butterfly,
you would be arrogant and vain
flaunting your beauty
in my face.
On the contrary,
gracious butterfly,
you are a humble gift from nature;
your exquisite beauty
a feast for my hungry urban eye
as you flutter by.