The Broken Butterfly
Little broken butterfly, with ragged wings of jade,
Come and alight on my palm, I’ll keep you in the shade,
Away from all this madness and away from all the pain,
Come here, my little butterfly, I’ll help you fly again..
See the sunlight, how it glints, on each your jeweled scale,
See how you still shimmer bright, even broken and frail,
For all outward appearances you are a breath of air,
But the strength in you, butterfly, I know, because I care..
The lines may all be jagged, scars may stay all unaligned,
The breaks in you not visible, not of body or mind,
I see them, I know where to look, butterfly, don’t you cry,
A hurt or broken butterfly is not destined to die
You may not think that you can fly but I know, you can soar.
There is no need to hide, no need to bury what you tore,
My little broken butterfly, be proud of battle scars,
You’ll see, my little butterfly- you’re perfect, as you are..
I was fifteen, when I read the Cutter’s Lullaby for the first time.
It was a revelation of sorts. An epiphany, a moment of utter clarity. A comfort to think that there were more people like me, and so many more. It became a true lullaby. I said the words over and over in my head, so much so that over eight years later, I still remember it in entirely, down the smallest pause, down to each stop.
It was one of the poems I wished I’d written, so that people would see it and derive comfort from it like I did. A warped sense of comfort, admittedly. When that phase passed, I often wanted to write something in response to it. To provide comfort again, but of a different sort- the fact that there’s a way out, and it’s truly much better on the other side. Today, in a sleepy fit of inspiration, the poem came to mind. I can only hope it soothes as many people as the original did, and in a healthier way.. I know writing it soothed me. This was an internal question I’d been trying to answer for a while, and finally I did.
I’m not mocking the original poet. Sandy, I believe her name is. On the contrary I’m grateful for the companionship, almost, in a way. I’ve healed in more ways than one, even as the causes for hurting have only gotten progressively worse over the years. I could say its because I’ve been getting more… thick skinned. 😛 A terrible joke, but oh well, my bad. 😛 The Cutter’s Lullaby is still a source of comfort to me, but comfort of a different sort now. Instead of needing the lullaby, I derive solace and contentment in knowing that I don’t need it anymore.
I guess the things you don’t have or need anymore can make you happy too. I know I am. 🙂
Wings to you,