a poem

Where are all the butterflies?
My childhood was full of
darting sparks of color which,
when followed closely with the eye,
became a winged mantra, focusing
my mind and calming my heart.
I would follow the butterfly
into the present moment, becoming
alive as I flitted from the flower
of my innocence to the flower of my joy.

Now, more than ever, I long
for the Eternal and seek my teacher
where I find her. Little creature
of color, come: lead me through
the dimensions; show me the way home.



by Elizabeth M. Cheatham