Monday, March 23, 2020

America, the Butterfly Quarantined

America, the Butterfly Quarantined 

by Susan Bourrie, March 23, 2020

 Worm that I am,
I crawl into
The darkness of uncertainty.
Unable to fight or take flight,
I freeze.
The heat of anger spews out.
Tears of grief follow.
 I am alone.
A crust begins to surround me
As ugliness inside escapes.
There is no one to comfort me
except my Maker.
If undisturbed
By hurry, worry, or curiosity,
I will emerge.
More radiant than a rainbow.
More beautiful than
A baby’s first cry
Or a senior’s last sigh.
With wings
That lift me as high as Heaven will allow,
I will become a more loving me.
If you dare to enter
And disturb my sleep,
You will lose the life you seek
And devolve into a worm
As history repeats.

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