butterflight

(in honor of minerva miraval)

the butterflies haunt me
i let the woman die
with a headache
so i may free
my fears

my pen doesn’t know me anymore
it has kept distant
for my heart runs out of liquid
to nourish my pages

i care about love
but love has watered my eyes
i may step back a while
so the man can claim his space

i dare not speak my mind
it defies logic
weakens the sick
kills one’s dream

mothers may survive
if they have learned
to love enough
so children may live

i cry once more
to share the joy of a mother
i can never be yet
in honor of my unborn children

tears are my children
for a woman like me
may have short memory
like a butterfly that shortly die
after the flight

i may be the lover
one can never have
i may be the mother
not yet meant to be
we might be the love
that is yet to live

i may not see stars in the sky tonight
i may be soaked in sudden rain
i may walk miles after miles
i may be dwarfed in the city of tall buildings
i may feel alone walking
amidst the millions
anonymous
i may never speak to my father again
for he is now beyond speech
i may have never been so drunk
to know not what is sober
but like the stars from a distance
my eyes can touch the sky