Once you touch a butterfly
it often, flustered, fails to flutter,
and cannot soar into the sky
without a sputter and may splutter,
because for butterflies the touch
of humans, friend or enemy,
can be calamitous, the clutch
of humankind’s hegemony.
When touching those whom we befriend,
no less than those whom we betroth,
we must take care lest we offend,
for, whether butterfly or moth,
the ones for whom we care may find
it hard to soar if we should brush
the dust, though trying to be kind,
from wings that, having touched, we crush.
8/3/00
i LIKE it. to MyPoemList and into my upcoming February 2019 showcase of PH poems i've found on PH, to be found in my list of PH poems. Thanks. bri (:
Damn, Gershon... In reading this, I am convicted of the wings I have broken with a careless touch... dan
At the risk of damning you with faint praise, I consider this the most accomplished poem on this site. Thanks for sharing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really enjoy this poem, cruel to be kind.