Feline Butterfly

by Carolin Messier

Crimson Wings

Of sleek coat and limber line,

an agile huntress with four paws and tail

strikes and feeds or strikes and fails

comes back from death nine times its said.

Wings of many hues alight

to sip from blossoms of a single spring,

grew first from dormant egg to crawling worm

performs a miracle then quickly dies.

As feline butterfly I have as many lives,

the cunning beast in me lives fearlessly

so it’s no death to me, to fly a single day

better that than stay afraid below the sky.

As feline butterfly I break from chrysalis entombed,

unfurl my radiant soul to preen and fly

then spin another threaded home for rest

and fold my wings upon themselves once more.

To sleep without a dream and simply be,

my nerves and blood and bone reform themselves

in different paths of earthly sacred being

no god, but heart and mind to be reborn.

To be reborn

from each lost love survived

each insight won

each moment breathed.

To be reborn

from sorrow, grief and pain

with bloodied, battered wings repaired

healed and bandaged with self-care.

For now I rest again in grayest dawn,

of a silken womb while gathering strength

to face a life full-lived with heart cracked open

and soar on crimson wings, stitched whole once more.