Black Butterfly

by Lorna Wilson

The gray steps of a wood frame home, the peeling paint and broken stone.
The ceiling stained with water spots, the sound that makes the drip, the drop.
The eyes that roam through every room, the lights are dim to hide the gloom.
Arise to search throughout the fray, for strength sought for another day.

The heaviness of mother’s breath; she does not wake from slumbers depth.
The cares of daily circumstance confound the path of sound guidance.
The choice that takes a turn for south; the thought to take a different route.
Arise to hear the fuss, the fight, run for the door with all my might.

The streets are littered with despair.  Look around, there’s no one there.
The outlook speaks utter defeat; a safe haven is all I seek.
The stranger offers up his hand; he says he has a better plan.
Arise to find the claim is false, the trickery, I’m truly lost.

The friend that offers to assist; to aid the heart where there is rift.
The stumbling block at every turn, answers found through lessons learned.
The mother’s cry for where she’s failed.  Her eyes cloud up behind the veil.
Arise to find the courtroom door.  The gray steps of my home, no more.

The system, run by foster care.  A stranger’s arms; this isn’t fair.
The introduction, the living Christ.  Help me find a better life.
The tattered wings, black butterfly.  The pain of loss, I often hide.
Arise, to find the pain is gone.  Black Butterfly, for you are strong.

The wings that once were pale and weak.  The colors are no longer bleak.
The layers mending one by one. Black Butterfly, into the sun.
The empty heart, no longer bare.  Black Butterfly, into the air.
Arise, to find your destiny.  Black Butterfly, and spread your wings.

Black Butterfly by Lorna Wilson

© Copyright 2013. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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