All Poetry

Butterfly.

From the shadow-frosted timbers
to a soul-caressing ray.

From unrelenting sheaths of silt
weighed beneath an earth’s decay.

From ebbing bud to rising bloom, 
hearts exhumed to wakened eyes.

As winter’s curtain takes its bow,
spread her wings…begin to fly.

For now she is free.


48 replies »

  1. Lovely poem, Phoebe. That image of the butterfly emerging from its chrysalis never ceases to inspire me. I gather you’ve caught up with how I’m taking an adult ballet class. In a sense this is a huge step for me due to my medical issues but it felt very natural. I usually get quite anxious about even small stuff but I know the teacher very well and they told me that they’ve had someone recovering from a stroke in one of their adult classes before. I am loving the class! I know it’s going to do wonder for me on so many levels!
    I hope you find the same liberation as you progress through your study and find where you’re meant to be.
    xx Rowena

  2. We all have a bit (or a lot!) of butterfly in our soul – we just have to set her free…………….beautiful poem wrapped around one of my favorite subjects!

    Hugs, Pam

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