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Dear Heart:: A Letter to One I Adore:: Fragile Butterfly
A Dedication, For your Mom, and You
Where do I start...
My dearest friend,
It has been so long, but I gave you your space,
I wait on you, too far away to dry each tear.
In my mind I can almost see your face,
I can almost hear your voice in my ear.
I see the fragile butterfly, fluttering outside your window.
The flutter of wings rouses you from your reverie...
You remember her, that's as it should be.
The coffee is done, and you rise,
pour a cup,
Rake your hand through your hair,
soon the family is up...
You must walk and talk and joke your way
through the labor that is each day
You wonder that they do not feel the pain,
for surely it is a palpable thing.
If they were in pain, you would feel it,
have felt it,
If she were here she would place her hand on you,
all the pain would go away...
A single tear slides down your cheek,
she would have caught it on her fingertip
before it could fall all the way.
The Butterfly, fragile thing, beats its wings harder, outside your window.
You see it fly, but feel too weak to let it in.
Here they come, you hear their voices, how can they laugh?
A kiss on the cheek, does he taste the tear?
a tender squeeze that says "we're here"
They can't get it, can't understand,
the time to let go has long since passed
and still you want to feel her hand.
"It's back again" you hear him say,
"If you don't let it in, it'll go away" you cry.
"She needs you now" he says as he opens the window...
In she flies and flies around your head
you don't want to, but you laugh, want to cry instead,
While she flies up and around, then dips, as if she's writing on the air,
No matter how much you deny it, you smile
You know your mother's there.
Where do I end?
Each of us is a single soul who is wrapped up in the souls around us. When one of the souls in our cluster lets go, the others feel so empty and lost. We realize that we don't know where we begin, where we end, but wherever the other soul went, it took a piece of us with it. The space can never be filled. It's hollow. Each of us feels the loss in a different place, just as a cluster of grapes must know when one grape is plucked, but the empty space won't be felt in the same way by every grape... I know its hard to keep hanging with the cluster, when all you feel is the absence of one so precious to you.
I hope you'll come back to us soon.
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