White Dead Butterflies

Costa Rica, 2013

White Dead Butterflies

 

They came to protect themselves

From the storm that never  arrives

Laid down on the floor, next to the loathsome dead insect

so insignificant

from beyond they were performing their magical dance

to forgive their pity

now they are dead at my feet

dead as hope, dead as White

they died waiting for the storm

that never comes, that never arrives

tired by their useless  dancing

they are dying at my feet

with torn wings

wings of disgrace

All their ephemereal beauty spilled at my feet

I finish with their pain

As they finish with my hope