Amber wings waft through my door
before The Scissors come cut out my breath
and rip the blanket from my grasp
that lies upon the sodden floor.
Braid my terror, knit my pain
with tender hooks and strings,
whisper again of innocence
and tell me I am not to blame.
I screamed until I had no voice
to blanch the horror and the hell,
I pinned you when I had no choice
Dear Butterfear, you taught me well.
So deperately you mustn't go,
for the light hurts my eyes,
where you lulled me from my shadow.
Will you escape another's fire,
and fluttering visit for a while,
untie my mouth and free the scream
or loose the knots where tears would fall,
and rest your amber wings?
- - -
Author's note: Butterfear is the moment of grace in the midst of anguish. It is a combination of fear and release - cold, angry, protective alter ego, and warm, free, delicate butterfly.
For abused children.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem